Deep in the Night
by WingedBlack
Summary: After Sirius and Harry finally meet in year 3, Sirius reveals a secret of his past to Harry. What will this secret change for Harry? Can it help Sirius, Harry and his friends with the trials yet to come?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Deep in the Night

Author: WingedBlack

Rating: M

Summary: After Sirius and Harry finally meet in year 3, Sirius reveals a secret of his past to Harry. What will this secret change for Harry? Can it help Sirius, Harry and his friends with the trials yet to come?

**Authors Note**: This takes place from the end of Year 3 onward. This story is based upon a mixture of the books and the movies. I took most of my information from the books, so you'll find, among other things, that Harry is green-eyed. I was inspired by a few things: one, MissAnnThropic's "Vox Corporis", from which I took the idea of using Sara Teasdale's poem and another plot twist; two, Sirius is my favorite character in the books, and not surprisingly, the person chosen to act the part in the movies is my favorite actor, Gary Oldman; and three, Snape, my other favorite character in the books, is portrayed by another of my favorite actors, Alan Rickman. While I don't hold with the portrayals of Snape as a never-ending hangnail in Harry's toe, I do believe that he is very, very bitter, but not without hope, otherwise he would not be fighting for Lily's cause. Furthermore, (and I won't keep you much longer) I don't believe Sirius to be the "stuck-in-the-past" character he is often portrayed as; he has gone through an ordeal, and has yet to recover from it, and, without help from people whose minds are otherwise involved (Harry's included), he could very well be the brash and reckless type. I chose to humanize both these characters, rather than stereotype them, and give them a little more hope than they had received in the books, thus the basis for this story.

I started this story around seven years ago, but life got in the way and was unable to finish it at the time; it's been bouncing around my head since then. I've got some more time now, so I decided to take another stab at it. (I had previously published it around 2007, but I took it down so I could improve and expand on the story.)

I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: I do not, have not, and will never (unfortunately) own anyone or thing from Harry Potter, or the poem that I have used as an opener from Sara Teasdale.

"Deep in the Night"

Sara Teasdale

_Deep in the night the cry of a swallow,_

_Under the stars he flew,_

_Keen as pain was his call to follow_

_Over the world to you._

_Love in my heart is a cry forever_

_Lost as the swallow's flight,_

_Seeking for you and never, never_

_Stilled by the stars at night._

* * *

_Prologue: Hushed_

The moonlight shone through the darkness, showing nothing but the foliage sheltering the forest's inhabitants from the outside. As the night bore on, the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind was broken when an owl ruffled its mighty wings as its prey, once again, scampered away from the sound of harsh whispers drawing closer. It was not curious, however, that this owl did not persist in its hunt. For this was no ordinary owl. This owl was familiar with those known as wizards, and knew of the happenings in the wizarding world. The owl instead stayed perched in the tree, listening to the whispers that were now audible.

The rustling of the wind was broken into once more by a handsome wizard with dark hair.

"You _must_. It is the only way that I can be sure of your safety, yours and the babe's."

"I can't just leave you to what will come! The war has already broken into even the muggle world. If I leave you now, who will get you out of all the trouble your plans always get you into?" This voice was softer, more feminine, with a touch of desperate sarcasm, and came from a petite witch with hair that shone almost white in the spare moonlight as the wizard lead her through the darkening shadows.

A brief smile passed over the man's face. "Haeth, please, you can't be involved in this. I know what is to come. I have seen what the Death Eaters will do to those that do not join the fold, what Voldemort will do. I have told you everything that has come to pass, and even now, you know that Lily and James mount an attack upon the forces of our enemies. They are going into hiding soon after that." He looked at the witch briefly, "They asked me to be secret-keeper, as you know. I am the most obvious choice for this, and the Death Eaters will come after me first. They would go after you to get to me, and, then, James and Lily; if you were to be with me if I were taken, they would surely kill you. I must not even know where you are. I cannot afford to put your safety in jeopardy."

"And I will be worrying about your safety even more! Not to mention James, Lily, and baby Harry. He's barely been born, Sirius!"

"I have a plan, as to that. I'm going to have Peter be the secret-keeper in my place. I am sure that he will not be suspected, as I will." Sirius stopped after this, looking into the witch's, revealed to be Haeth, face, imploring her, "Please, think of the child within you. Think of our future."

Heath sighed, "But how should I know if anything were to happen to Lily or James? And you! You were always hopeless without me. How could I be sure you wouldn't walk straight into You-know-who's lair and challenge him to a duel yourself?" She sent a sidelong half-grin towards him.

"Oh, I'm sure I'll have my hands full with my dear cousin. I owe her for the McKinnons." Sirius looked relieved, as though a battle had been won. "I have made arrangements. Dumbledore has consented to be the secret-keeper of your location. He shall tell you-and me-of any news that comes to pass. And if anything should happen to me in this war, please, keep yourself and our child safe." Sirius was now leading Haeth farther along the winding path in the forest, until they came across a large willow tree. In the shadows of the luminous tree, one could vaguely make out a tall wizard with long shining hair and beard.

"Dumbledore." he said, "I'm happy to find you well. Thank you for meeting us here."

"Ensuring the safety of an old friend's child is always a priority." the old man replied, stepping out of the shadows slightly. "In these dark times, safety is hard to come by, indeed. I trust you have told her everything?"

"I have. I-"

"-Dumbledore, please promise me that I am not leaving him to die. Promise me that you will do what you can to protect him." Haeth cut in, grasping the dark haired wizard's arm tightly.

"Ah, Haeth, I promise. But you must come, the portkey activates in one minute's time. And in your condition, we cannot afford to miss it." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he gazed upon the heavily pregnant witch.

Haeth turned to Sirius, and hugged him fiercely. "Try to convince Lily to join me. I'm sure she'll need someone to secretly laugh at all you boys' exploits with; and it would set my mind at ease knowing she and our godson were safe with me." With this, she leaned up to meet the wizard's mouth, and gently placed her hand upon his arm.

"I love you, Haeth."

"And I, you. Good Luck." Haeth walked towards Dumbledore, and when she reached the shadows of the willow tree, she turned back with tears in her eyes. "Goodbye." Then, she was gone.

* * *

_Halloween, 1981…_

It had been too long. Too long since he heard any news from Lily and James. Too long since he had any sense of security in the world. Carefully laid plans were set in motion, and yet… he could not stop a sense of foreboding as the winds turned bitter, and the days grew darker. He stood and walked towards the window, peering out into the early morning grey, and wondered when Dumbledore would send his weekly message. Aching to learn whether his comrades in the struggle against Voldemort had gained an advantage, he restlessly stalked to the kitchen and rummaged through the shelves until he found what he'd been looking for.

"Nothing like firewhiskey to settle nerves," the wizard said, settling himself in front of the fire again, chuckling as he remembered the last time he had to resort to numbing himself due to nerves.

On the last day of September, over a year ago, he'd been sitting at James's dining table waiting to hear of his child's birth. Haeth had gone into labor earlier that day, and he'd been restless ever since Lady McTavish's owl patronus had flown through the open window. James had finally given up trying to calm him with words and resorted to giving him the best firewhiskey in the house. It was the last time they'd been together. He had gone into hiding shortly after the birthing, as it had been just after their attack on Voldemort's forces; though, there was little chance of anyone finding his own family: he'd found through the owl patronus that Dumbledore was not, in fact, Haeth's secret-keeper, the McTavish family magic had vested that secret in his daughter, whose name he didn't even know.

Remus had then gone to try and reason with the werewolves, and he had heard little news from him since, Peter had gone into hiding as well, for he bore a great secret, a secret that he himself was a diversion in an attempt to protect. And despite Haeth's best arguments, James and Lily decided that they should go into hiding together after Harry was born. _'It's best to keep the family together. He is after our son, and we won't risk their lives by hiding Harry with them.'_ they had said. That had been a year ago.

Taking a last long draw from the bottle, he stood up to throw it away when Dumbledore's phoenix patronus burst through the wall. "Voldemort is on the move. Your position might be compromised." it said in Dumbledore's rich tones.

Immediately, the wizard dropped the bottle and took off towards the forest near the house he had been staying in. As soon as he hit the tree line, he dropped and became the dog Padfoot. Racing east, he headed towards Godric Hollow, the preset meeting place if any of their hiding areas had been compromised. He looked toward the sky. _An hour until dawn, _he thought. _I'm going to need my bike. _So, turning back towards the house, he ran to the shed on the tree line, and after transforming back into a man, retrieved his prized motorcycle and quickly hid in the trees. After determining that there was no one around yet, he revved his motor and took to the skies, tapping his invisibility charms with his wand as he went.

When the first rays of light hit the horizon, he had reached the outskirts of the place his best friend called home. However, instead of a feeling of relief and joy, he felt a strong sense of dread; instead of seeing the smoke rise in the distance from his best friend's home, he saw nothing. And as he came upon the place where the house should be, horror clenched at his heart; a snake slithering through a glowing skull writhed over a wreck of a house. The sight of his best friend's house half in shambles with the upper right portion blown clear off brought tears of despair to his eyes. Seeing Hagrid in front of the house, he touched ground with his bike and revealed himself to him.

"Hagrid… what-? Are they… are they ok?" he asked the half-giant. Quickly Hagrid turned and the man saw that he was carrying a child. "_Harry."_

"They're all gone. You-know-'oo got 'em," was all Hagrid could get out before breaking down in giant shuddering sobs.

"Give Harry here, Hagrid. I'm his godfather; I'll take care of him." the man said.

"No, Dumbledore told me to bring 'im to Lil' Wingin', to his aunt and uncle. He says he's got to stay there, with blood."

Withdrawing his arms, the man suddenly realized why this happened, what had happened for this to ever have taken place. _I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Remus. _And with cold certainty, he knew what he must do next. Nodding his head, he told Hagrid to take his bike; he wouldn't need it where he was going. Watching Harry into the distance bundled up, unaware of the destruction around him, one thought came viciously to his mind: _Peter Pettigrew…_

With that, he turned south… and Padfoot again came to the forefront.

* * *

The cottage loomed in the darkness, casting eerily green shadows under the gaze of the Dark Lord's serpent. A man stood in the shadows across the way from where the man and giant had spoken. He had watched Black race away and vanish as he hit the tree line; now he turned his attention to the door hanging from its hinges. _I have to know._ The last time he had seen her her eyes were dark in anger.

Walking along the shadows, he held his cloak around his torso with one hand and his wand with the other. The cottage seemed to grow more distant as he grew nearer, until, suddenly, he was inside the entry hall, and James Potter was staring up at him, blankly. His upper lip twitched toward his nose, wrinkling it in disgust. _No more than he deserved._ He quickly looked up from the bloodless face, glancing about the room. Broken furniture, torn sofa, shattered glass and pictures scattered. Potter couldn't have put up this much of a fight. He didn't see anyone else. Walking slowly through the empty doorframe, he entered the kitchen. It was untouched. Dishes were in the sink and on the table, caught between dinner and dessert. Her face stared out from the wall, blinking confusedly. Eyes wide and clear and green.

In his mind, they were back in Spinner's End; he had just revealed himself to her, revealed herself to her. His leaf-bird fluttered around her red waves and up, up, while she looked at him, eyes wide. Clear. Green. _It's alright. I'm like you. We're magical. We can be friends now. Forever. _He shook the memory away. Her picture had turned to the child in her arms, as though the tuft of hair behind the glass on the wall could be hurt. As if they were real.

He abruptly turned back to the entry room. _The stairs. She would be with him. The boy._ The hall to the left was untouched, so he went right, where the walls seemed to tilt as if trying to stay upright when the world was shifting beneath them.

The door was open just enough so a draft blew his black hair from his face. Reaching out, he braced the wall, and pushed the door forward. Creaking, it revealed chaos open to the night, and the breeze shifted the blankets hanging over the crib walls. Splintered roof fallen in toward toys scattered across the floor seemed to stretch toward him, like the arm from underneath the rubbish blasted over the room. Suddenly the world jolted straight, and he was heaving over. Scrambling, he struggled to keep his footing as he moved the debris from the body; the red waves flowed over the face of it. He realized his hand was trembling as he smoothed the strands back, and he heard an animal breathing in the distance. Harsh breaths, like it had run from the blast and returned to see if it were safe again.

Her eyes were dull. Gazing at him. Frozen. He shuddered, and abruptly he realized that the harsh breathing was his own. And it wasn't breathing at all, but gasping, as though he could breath through the waves crashing in through his open mouth. Clutching the woman to his chest, he gasped until he found the strength to let out a moan. _I'm sorry. _He squeezed his arms against her flesh, straining. _I'm sorry. _It meant nothing, now. She lay there, staring. Her eyes, cold, dull.

* * *

_In Scotland…_

In the center of beautifully tended grounds of trees, gardens and waterways, stood a spectacular ancient castle, updated to fit the tastes of each generation, that was unusual in one way. This particular castle housed a particularly old family of wizards, the McTavishes. The McTavish family was known for their good hearts and their kindness to anybody whom the family set eyes upon. However, in recent years, while still keeping their reputation for kindness, they fell into a habit of reclusion. With the darkness of Lord Voldemort drawing a tighter web on their carefully protected world, they used a brand of protective magical barriers that their family was particularly knowledgeable and skilled with to keep those with rather unscrupulous intentions from finding their home.

While the dark times lifted from the outside world, the McTavish family kept in good contact with the outside world, and they knew exactly what had happened the night that the dark lord fell. It was the night that the youngest McTavish daughter lost her best friends, and lover. Haeth was currently in the gardens with her child, a girl, whom had hair black as night, unlike the fair McTavishes, and olive skin. The only way one would recognize her as her mother's daughter immediately was her eyes. This baby girl had stunning jade-green eyes that contrasted with her olive skin. And currently those eyes were fixed on the mother whom held her.

"My beautiful daughter, how I wish your father were here to tell you how much you are cherished." The mother spoke suddenly. "You are the light in the darkness of my sorrow, my sweet girl.

"I wish you could have known your godparents. They were kind and loving, just as you will be when you grow up. They died so that you and their son may live. So that you may live in a world free from the darkness of our past. And though throughout your life you will hear of your father as a dark man, a terrible man, it is my wish that you know the true story of your roots. I will tell you the story of your father, and the friends that made up our family, so that you will never be ashamed. Your father is a good man, and I hope that one day, you will also be the brightness in his night. One day, when you are older, I will take you to him. One day, when you have the ability to fight for your honor, and his. And your father will love you, for you are his daughter, Syra Black..."

* * *

_Thirteen Years Later…_

The countryside was a blur for Harry, as he was currently staring out of focus out the window of the compartment on the Hogwarts Express that he was sharing with his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. He had a lot on his mind lately, as it seemed that he now had family in the world that wished him more than just the short end of the stick. His thoughts were ruptured when he suddenly heard Hermione. "-window?"

"What?" He replied looking up at her.

"What's that outside your window?" She repeated, pointing to the window now being blocked by an excited creature bobbing with the wind.

Harry unlocked the window, and grabbed the bobbing owl with his hands, bringing him inside the compartment. Seeing the letter tied to his leg, he quickly untied it and the owl zoomed around the compartment in glee.

"It's from Sirius!" Harry exclaimed as he opened the letter. Reading aloud he continued to look through the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post._

_Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I won't tell you where, in case this owl falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubts about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

_I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted._

_There are a few things I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt-_

Shooting Hermione a sharp glance when she opened her mouth, looking smug, Harry said "Don't start. He wouldn't have jinxed it, and you know it."

"Yes, but we didn't know that _then_, did we?" Hermione replied.

Shrugging, Harry continued.

_Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._

_I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._

_I also have something which you must not disclose to anyone other than your most trusted friends. Over the summer, I am sure that you will find yourself at your friend Ron's home. Please find a way to be alone at the fire, and let me know when you have. I need to speak with you about something of the utmost importance._

_I am enclosing something else for you, which I think you will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

_If you ever need me, send word. Your owl will find me._

_I'll write again soon._

_Sirius_

Shocked, Harry looked inside the envelope and saw another piece of parchment, on which was written something that made even more joy spread to his fingertips.

_I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends._

"That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" said Harry happily. Looking back at Sirius's letter, he saw a post script written underneath his signature.

_I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat._

Ron's face lit up almost as quickly as it grew suspicious. He grabbed the owl, and held it out to Crookshanks, "What do you think?" When the large orange cat started to purr, he smiled and said "Good enough for me, he's mine."

Chuckling, Harry reread the letter, and wondered about Sirius's request. His thoughts, however, were interrupted by Hermione voicing them out loud.

"I wonder what he wants to talk to you about. The letter didn't say anything else about it?"

"No, he didn't say. I don't think he wants anyone to know about whatever it is except for us." Harry said thoughtfully.

"It might be something about Voldemort, from the last war." Hermione mused.

"Always analyzing every detail, Hermione. Why didn't I think of that?" Harry teased, his eyes dancing with mirth.

Hermione smirked in response, and continued, ignoring the silent laughter coming from Ron's corner. "Well, we ought to ask Ron's parents if we can stay over this summer. Maybe we can get them to take you early, Harry."

Ron suddenly looked like a light had gone on inside his head, "Speaking of the summer, Harry, the Quidditch World Cup is in August and we've got tickets for you and Hermione!"

"Oh, that's perfect!" Hermione exclaimed. "We could meet at the Burrow early, talk with Sirius, and start preparing for next term." When Ron opened his mouth, she hastily added, "For whatever Sirius wants, of course. And we all know you'll need a firm hand to get your summer work done for school, Ron." Ron scowled at her. "And you both need the extra time to work on your runes with me."

"Yes, we know." Harry replied, thinking of their conversation last week. Hermione had brought up the fact that now that the danger of Voldemort returning was at a new height, their studies should double. After much protest from Ron, Harry had agreed that they all needed to focus on bettering their skills and gaining every advantage that they could in the inevitable fight against Voldemort. It was then that Hermione suggested that they drop Divination and take Ancient Runes.

"_The connection to the magical fount of all of our powers is intense when it comes to Ancient Runes." Hermione explained. "I've learned in the past year that ancient runes not only teach you of the magical history of all wizardkind, but help to focus your magical abilities bringing forth support for the spells and potions that you would use it for."_

"_That would be very useful." Harry agreed, nodding his head. "Do you think it could make our spells more powerful?"_

"_Through focus, yes. Not necessarily making you as a wizard more powerful-your magical ability is inborn and unchanging-but it adds potency to your spells that can only come through concentration and practice. I've seen the improvement on the minor spells that we have gone over this past year in the class."_

"_So, basically, we develop our magical skill rather than our magic itself?" Harry clarified. _

"_Roughly," Hermione said, "it's much like developing your skill to its maximum potential. The runes make it a bit easier to do, I suppose."_

"_Wonderful…more study." Ron said grumpily, throwing a sardonic smile at Harry._

"We'll need all the time we can get to catch you two up on what we went over last year." Hermione said, jolting Harry back to the present. "Not to mention keeping you up to date next term while you're wasting your time in Trelawney's class. Pity it was too late to change classes last week."

"Don't we know it. Another year making up new and exciting ways for Harry to die…" Ron said, looking forlorn. "As if we had new ways… I think we went through every imaginable way to die last year!"

Harry barked a laugh. "I'm sure new ways will occur to us. We might be able to add in Voldemort as a factor now, though—"_Harry!_" came from Hermione— and I'm sure she'll give us full marks for that travesty."

"Yea, I'm sure she'll love the bleak outlook on the future we have." Ron laughed. "Merlin, I can't wait to drop that class. I'm talking to McGonagall first thing next term."

"We might as well review all of our other subjects as well, before we meet up for the summer, we can get started on the books for next year when we go to Diagon Alley."

"Hermione!" Ron started in, "I've got enough to do this summer with just Ancient Runes! Can't you let a guy have some fun on his break?!"

Harry chuckled at that, then turned and looked out the window again. "We've better get ready, we're nearly there."

As the train pulled up to the station, the trio waited to get off in the corridors chatting amicably with the Weasley brood. As they gradually passed through the barrier to the Muggle world, Harry said his goodbyes to his friends and walked over to his Aunt and Uncle, the letter from Sirius still clutched tightly in his hand.

"I'll call you about the World Cup!" Ron called after him.

Turning and waving again to him and Hermione, he smiled and thought of the summer ahead. However, when he had reached his Aunt and Uncle, Vernon eyed the letter suspiciously and asked rudely what it was.

Harry grinned and said, "It's from my godfather, actually. He was just checking up on me."

Paling slightly, Uncle Vernon said, "You haven't got a godfather!"

"Yes, I have. He was my mum and dad's best friend." And then grinning mischievously, he added "He's a convicted murderer, you know. And he likes to keep in touch with me… keep up on the news… make sure I'm happy…" And Uncle Vernon's face paled even more, giving him a slightly gray pallor.

Suddenly, the summer didn't look so bad.

* * *

Coming next time: What will Harry think when he discovers that he has a god-sister?

_Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review with your thoughts._

_WingedBlack_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter One: Revelations_

_Year Three, Summer_

Harry woke to a flash of green, unable to remember what it was that he had been dreaming. Rubbing his scar with his fist, he tried to recall what caused the green light in his dream. It hadn't come along with the usual cold laughter that came with the memory of his parents' death, but he couldn't think of anything other than _Avada Kedavra_ that gave that sickening shade of green. Shifting in the cot, he realized-probably because of Ron's snoring-that he was at the Burrow. Hermione's plan for them to catch up on Ancient Runes had the Weasley's coming to pick him up a mere two weeks after he'd been at the Dursley's, and that alone made this summer the best he'd ever had.

Harry descended the stairs as quietly as he could, though he found that a few sections of the stairs creaked no matter what he did. Finally, he passed by Ginny's landing and entered the kitchen. It was dimly lit, and he didn't want to risk waking anyone by tripping over the table or something, so he passed the sink and opened the curtains to a view of the fields beyond the house, where the sky was just lightening before dawn.

Pausing, he gazed at the stars shining just above the horizon. _Brightest star in the morning...Sirius._ As he began to clean the kitchen, he wondered where Sirius was. What he was doing. He'd written to him when he came to the Burrow, and had been waiting for a reply ever since. He'd filled his letter with anecdotes of Ron's complaints that Harry's homework was already done, with questions about the Ancient Runes book that he had owl-ordered from Flourish and Blotts, with excitement over his first-ever birthday party-which his best friends and favorite family would be putting on (Hermione was coming the day before), and with concerns that he had with the prophecy that Trelawney had made right before Harry had found out the truth about Sirius and Peter. Truth be told, it was the longest letter that Harry had ever written; and he was surprised that he felt so comfortable with Sirius as to tell him all this; but he couldn't seem to help himself, now that he had someone who cared to know it.

The kitchen clean, he set about making a pot of tea and some scones for his breakfast, and in the gradually lightening room, found a basket of juniper berries on the table. By the time the sun had begun to rise and the sounds of stirring in the depths of the house began, Harry had taken a few scones off the giant plate on the table and a cuppa for himself and took refuge outside from the inevitable chaos of a Weasley morning. A half smile touched his lips briefly at the thought of his favorite family; sometimes they were just too much for him. He settled himself underneath the oak tree on the hill above the garden, and watched the sunrise illuminate the wild array of flowers and brush. Some of the fruit from the trees had fallen, and there were giant fruit piles scattered among the overgrown grasses where the gnomes had gathered their food. And in the far corner of the garden, out of sight, near the duck pond, was, Harry knew, a flourishing patch of fire-lilies, sunflowers, daisies, and sunroses, though he had never seen any of the Weasleys tending the patch during his many visits to it. Setting his empty cup at the trunk of the tree, he leaned back and closed his eyes against the sun's rays, soaking in their warmth.

He often looked out at the sunrise while he was making breakfast for the Dursleys. He'd stand on his stepstool and soak in the warmth, which was always somehow warmer to him than the heat from the pan on the stove. He always thought that the orange beams he saw through the window were reminding him that there was another world beyond the glass; which, of course, he learned to be true when he went to school for the first time. But, even there, the Dursleys managed to ruin his hope of something better.

_No. Move on, Harry. They aren't here. _

He found his hands around his cold, empty cup, squeezing as though he might force the heat from his hands to the cup, and breathed slowly, calmly, quieting the stirring of magic within his chest; it wouldn't do to destroy the Weasleys' beautiful orchard.

There was a girl once, who had taught him that trick. He was back at primary school, and Dudley's gang had just gotten him in trouble for something he didn't do; a small younger girl came up to him with a hand full of leaves arranged like a bouquet.

'_Me Da says breathing makes you feel better.'_

Harry had looked up from his seat against the school building wall warily. The girl was holding out the bouquet of leaves.

'_I like leaves,' she said, gesturing for him to take the handful. _

She'd just walked away after that, but he remembered her blue eyes crinkling kindly at him. That and the way the sun glinted off of her hair like the light hit Aunt Petunia's ancient copper tea kettle in the morning. He was never sure what to make of her, as he never spoke to her again, though he watched her every day until he left for Hogwarts; she was always very kind and always laughing.

A gnome scurried across the grass at the base of his little hill, and Harry looked up. The house was definitely stirring now, and two tall, stocky figures crept out of the half-open dutch door and set about attaching some sort of contraption underneath the window directly above the entry, using muggle latch-hook poles.

Harry chuckled as he watched; the Weasley twins were very inventive wizards. The sun was well above the horizon now, and a steady stream of grey smoke was rising from the many chimneys on the roofs of the Burrow; Mrs. Weasley was up and working on the many chores. He imagined Ron attempting to sneak past her on the stairs and smirked. Ginny had joined the twins outside; she was laughing at something one of them had said, and her hair was glinting in the sun. For a moment, Harry felt like he was drifting with the light breeze that brought the scent of warm flowers; the cheers and laughter drifted off into the distance, along with what sounded like a stick-fight that had started up, and Harry only saw coppery-red flying in the wind.

Then Percy's voice burst from the window above the entry-door, followed by his head. A bang sounded, and a multicoloured cloud of what looked like powder from chalkboard erasers drifted across Harry's vision. The world exploded in laughter and yelling. Ron and Mrs. Weasley came out of the doorway, through the still settling cloud. Mrs Weasley impatiently jerked her wand toward the colours on her skin and clothes, and they jumped up again in a cloud that drifted on the wind. Ron seemed to take his opportunity and walked quickly backwards to Harry's tree while Mrs. Weasley swelled like a red bullfrog.

The world snapped back into focus, and Ron had settled down next to Harry, covered in pastel swirls of color.

"They're really going to get it this time," he said, "I wouldn't be surprised if I'm off chores for a week!" He looked ecstatic. Harry grinned.

"Poor Percy." Harry glanced at the now-empty window. "Why do they always target him?"

"Perc?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Nah, don't worry about him. He's too concerned with his homework to worry about a bout of teasing."

He settled back onto the palms of his hands, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I wish I had seen him get dosed, though. By the time I got up, everyone had already gotten out of Mum's way, and I was stuck cleaning the sitting room. I, at least, wish I could have nicked some of those scones from the kitchen before she set me beating dust out of the sofa." He turned his head to Harry. "You know what? She told me that someone had cleaned the kitchen last night. Dishes and everything!" He looked incredulous. "Told me that I should learn from the example. Who cleans like that besides mum?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably as Ron sniffed and rubbed his nose.

"I bet it was Percy, though. Always trying to look good."

Mrs. Weasley chose that moment to herd the twins into the yard to de-gnome and passed right by the two boys.

"Come now boys, I've got a dozen things to take care of and only a few days before Hermione comes to stay. Help me sort through the laundry that needs doing inside. And Good Morning, Harry, dear." She stood, wiping her hands on her apron. "Well, come on then!" She turned and walked back to the house.

The Weasley house would never get old for Harry; the clock hands featuring Ron and the twins moved to 'Doing Chores' as he passed the entryway to the kitchen, and he grinned at how magic still amazed him. The winding staircase with its rickety weight held up only by force of magic. The magical household appliances working away as Mrs. Weasley maintained the spells every so often; she often had her wand in hand while carrying three baskets full of rubbish or laundry. Even the smell was appealing: a warmed wooden scent with the must of use that an old deck might have. There was always some noise happening, as long as someone was awake. The Weasleys weren't a people who tried to hide their presence, or anyone who was with them; they announced it to the world, proudly. And as he worked beside Ron, he listened to the Weasley life. Ron complaining about the work under his breath: a constant stream that reduced to a low buzz in Harry's ears after a while. The twin's shouting out when the gnomes managed a bite, and congratulating eachother on a long throw. Mrs. Weasley's voice calling out reprimands over the racket of the household spells. The only people he never really heard from, unless he was in their proximity were Percy and Ginny. Percy, he figured was just respectful of an ordered life, quite opposite of the rest of the family, but he couldn't get a pin on Ginny. He supposed it was because of her shyness around him, but when he saw her around the twins, she seemed just as mischievous and fun-loving as they were. But he didn't have much room to talk. He generally liked to keep to himself, unless some fun was to be had. As it was, there were only a few pieces of laundry left to sort, and then it would be another chore on the list.

It seemed like time slipped by, they had so much work over the next few days, and Harry had to wonder if his birthday party was worth such an effort. The house looked great, now, though. The couches, while covered in knitted blankets, were dust-free and plumped well; the garden was trimmed and blooming; the stairway was well oiled and gleaming, if still squeaking; the bedrooms were picked up and dust-free; and the kitchen was sparkling and wafting mouth-watering smells through the yard, where Harry, Ron, and the twins were relaxing while waiting for Hermione to come with Mr. Weasley. The day was hot for Devonshire, and they all had mugs of pumpkin juice and pumpkin pasties and were watching Bill and Charlie, who had shown up the day before, play gnome wars by floating snapping gnomes at eachother and trying to block with various engorged stones and sticks. The breeze finally came across the yard ruffling leaves and flowers and scattering shadows, until the shadows reformed into a large bird; Hedwig dropped in front of Harry and stuck out her leg.

Harry grinned and gave her a bit of his pasty, which she took gratefully before slurping some of his pumpkin juice. Untying the letter, he looked at Ron, to let him know that the letter was from Sirius so he could distract the twins, then broke the seal.

_Dear Harry, _

_I'm glad that you are enjoying your summer so far. Rest assured, I am working with our friends on finding where Peter got off to. I will let you know anything you need to know about the matter._

_I am proud that you managed to finish your homework already! (I'm sure James is rolling over in his grave, though!) I almost always tried to get my homework done first so I could have fun and relax for the rest of my breaks, but James always wanted to go out and fly or explore the woods. Sometimes I won, sometimes he did. Needless, we always managed to have fun, so you can tell Ron that he needn't worry about it. _

_As far as Ancient Runes, Hermione was quite right. They can be used to focus your power and enable you to reach your full potential faster. However, that passage you quoted regarding using the rune as a focus is distinct from that purpose, as a rune used as a focus is 'charged' using your power, but you are unable to utilize that power once the rune is charged. Conversely, a rune that you focus on while casting a spell is used as a funnel, and enhances your power to your true potential, whether or not you have achieved it as of yet. I can explain in more detail when I visit you for an in-person discussion. _

_Speaking of… make sure that you and your friends are alone with the Burrow Floo after your birthday party at one thirty in the morning. I will visit then to discuss things with you. _

_And Happy Birthday, Harry. I'll see you soon. _

_Sirius_

Harry grinned even wider, if that were possible. He was going to see Sirius tomorrow! He rolled up the parchment and put it carefully in his muggle jacket. Glancing at the twins, he made sure that they were well-occupied with the gnome war before getting Ron's attention to let him know of Sirius' plan.

"It'll be tricky to get the twins out in time. They sometimes stay up late, but Mum might have them in bed because of the festivities."

"Do you think your Mum will stay up late?"  
"Nah, she's always in bed soon after dinner." Ron gestured to the house. "Especially after this week, she'll be knackered. We'll just have to worry about the twins."

"Maybe we can slip some firewhiskey into their pumpkin juice?" Harry's eye glinted and his lips twitched as Ron guffawed into his mug.

At that moment, Hermione side-apparated in with Mr. Weasley. "What's so funny?" She walked up with her bag hitched on her shoulder, looking between Harry and Ron. As Ron showed no sign of his laughter abating, Harry filled her in quietly.

"You wouldn't!" She exclaimed, exasperatedly, rolling her eyes. "Why wouldn't you nick some sleeping potion from your mum's Healing Cabinet and dose them?" She flopped her bag on the ground and leaned back onto it. "Much more effective and reliable."  
Ron abruptly stopped laughing and stared at her. "You really are scary sometimes, you know that, don't you?"

"Nevermind that, how's your homework coming?"

Ron rolled his eyes as he told her that Harry had followed in her footsteps over the summer; Harry elbowed him in the ribs. "I also finished reading the Ancient Runes and Arithmancy books through. Do you have any of your exercises from last year?" His two friends stared at him. "What? With the Dursley's afraid that my crazy godfather will burst in and hex them all, they've kind of left me alone this summer. I've had more time to read." Ron sniggered into his hand at that, but Hermione's expression shifted to something resembling sympathy. Harry quickly looked away.

"I've got some of my old papers. We can go over them together," she turned to Ron, "What about you? Dare I hope you've gotten anywhere?"

Ron flushed guiltily. "I looked through them." He looked over to the twins, whom had joined in on the gnome war when Hermione showed up, to avoid her exasperated look. "Well I still have plenty of time to get through them. It'll go much faster now that you're here anyway." Harry's lips twitched as Hermione's exasperated look shifted to a glare.

"Better quit while you're ahead, mate." Harry gathered up his plate and teacup. "You can get started tonight, while Hermione and I work on exercises for Runes and Arithmancy."  
Ron grumbled under his breath as the trio headed in to wash up for lunch. Harry thought he heard "_bloody book-nerd"_ but he couldn't be sure. He tried to ignore him, as he greeted Mrs. Weasley before they went up to Ron's room, stopping at Ginny's landing so Hermione could unload her travel bags.

* * *

Harry found himself checking the time every ten minutes, despite enjoying himself more than he had in years. His first birthday party had really started when he woke up that morning, with a multitude of gifts finding their way to his bedpost with a preening Hedwig perched right on top with a letter tied to her ankle. Sirius had written him a birthday note saying that he would offer real congratulations and gifts after his party that night, which brought Harry's eyes back to his watch.

"-looks rather sporting, don't you think, Harry?"

Harry realized that Fred had asked him a question. "Uh, sporting, yea." He scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment, hoping they'd let his lapse of attention pass, and then saw Ron wearing a flamingo pink nose and spiky indigo eyebrows glaring in his direction. He avoided Ginny's curious eyes, and hastily continued, "though, I really think that green fringe would look better with those eyebrows," he grinned impishly at Fred, who he was certain was responsible for Ron's new look, "Indigo doesn't go well with the Weasley hair, know what I mean?"

"Shove off, Harry. I see you don't really mind sporting a dazed look tonight. What's the matter? Goyle your new hero?"

Harry shot Ron a look, as he knew perfectly well why Harry was distracted. "Nah, I'm imitating your look whenever Madame Rosmerta walks by."

The group, save for Ron and Hermione, erupted in laughter even louder than before.

Mr. Weasley walked in the room then, and settled into his cushioned chair by the fireplace with a meat pie in his hand. "What are you lot up to, then?" His eyes set on Ron. "Trying to remake the Weasley name?" He set the fire with his wand with a small smile while Ron glared darkly into his mug of butterbeer.

"Ah, come on Ronnikins," George put in, "come play a round of Exploding Snap with us," he gestured to the cards scattered around the singed coffee table. The twins had just managed a win over Ginny, and the latter was setting up on the sofa with an Herbology book.

"You might be able to burn off the new brows," Ginny put in when Ron just glared at the wall. He glanced her way and sniffed. She shrugged and went back to her book _Magical Plants of the Stars and Seasons. _

Hermione shook her head as she pulled out her old Arithmancy and Ancient Runes lessons from her bag and settled down next to Harry on the floor cushions, "Do you want to start that homework now, Harry?"  
"Ah, Hermione, let him enjoy his party, at least," Ron said from his position in front of the Exploding Snap cards.

"Actually, I'd enjoy working on some Arithmancy," Harry cut in. "I like the idea of something taking my focus, as I keep dazing off." He looked toward Ron pointedly. "Must've been bored or something…" He heard a scoff coming from the direction of the coffee table as he turned to the pile of parchment rolls now on his lap, but, rolling his eyes slightly, he ignored it. "So Hermione, I've heard that Arithmancy is more than just understanding the magical power of certain numbers and how that power interacts with other numbers to predict the magical circumstance. Have you learned anything yet about the predictive quality of magical number application?" he asked, shifting through the stack of parchment.

"Actually," Hermione shuffled through her rucksack, "Professor Vector said that we would be entering that part of Arithmancy in fifth year," she pulled out a sheaf of papers stuffed inside a textbook, "but I found this text in the library and managed to get Madame Pince to let me check it out for the summer." She leaned in close, putting on a high pitched weaselly voice "Independent studies are to be encouraged for _responsible_ library patrons." Immediately she ducked her head as spots of color appeared on her cheeks, and Harry laughed.

"I do believe that we're a bad influence on you, Hermione."

Ginny stifled a giggle as Ron looked over at the two and flushed a light purple, and the tower of cards exploded and singed the right side of his face.

"Another butterbeer for us!" the twins crowed, clinking dripping bottles together.

Harry looked at the charred table with the pristine exploding snap cards scattered around; the fire's glow flickered on the scratched wood, and, for a second, the glow was a sickly green, and a scream echoed in the distance.

"…Harry?" Hermione touched his shoulder with the hand holding the sheaf of papers. Harry blinked. The table was flickering orange and brown.

"…could restart the Death Eaters?" Bill was saying quietly to his father.

Mr. Weasley made a soft motion of his head to the side, and Bill fell silent, glancing at the gathering quickly. Harry was looking right at him.

"Harry?" Hermione tapped his shoulder again.

"Sorry," he turned his head toward her, "got distracted again." He reached for the notes in her hand, "So, what did you find?"

She glanced between him and Bill, her face thoughtful. "Well…" she glanced again. "Well, I understand that it's not about predicting, and more about probability. The magical properties associated with various numbers can increase or decrease the probability of an effect that a circumstance can have. People always mistake that for a kind of divination, but I like to think of it as arithmatic from muggle school. If you understand the theory, you can apply the properties to any combination of numbers to get a predictable result. I'm sure Bill would know more; curse-breakers use it to understand the strength and basic components of wards in order to safely break through them."

Harry looked toward Bill and Mr. Weasley again. Their heads were close together; their words were indistinct now. "Maybe I'll ask him." The flames flickered around their heads, distorting their faces into the shadows you see beneath a cloak.

"Alright, everyone!" Mrs. Weasley came around the corner taking off her flower-covered apron, "come and get it!"

The dining table was covered in steaming plates of Harry's favorites: treacle tarts being the main event, of course. But Harry didn't taste any of it. _I need to talk to Sirius. He'll know how to fight._ He looked toward Bill and Mr. Weasley. _He'll know what to do._

* * *

It seemed like a lifetime later, but Harry found himself sitting on the sofa with the candles burning low, his hair still damp from the bath. He was trying to read the Arithmancy text, but his eyes kept drifting to the fireplace. The logs had long since burned to ash, and he had replaced them with a fresh stack in preparation for Sirius' arrival. The silence stretched over the house like flies. _Has Wormtail found Voldemort? _Snorting softly, he shook that thought out of his head. _Think about what you can do, not what might happen. _He remembered the afternoon. _Maybe I'll go mad before it happens. _His stomach tightened a notch when soft footsteps broke through the swarming in his ears.

"Harry?"

He relaxed as Hermione's hair appeared from the dining room followed closely by Ron's lanky form. They were to come down when they were sure the rest of the Weasley clan was asleep. He looked at his wristwatch. _1:22. _

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione whispered. "You've been out of it all day." She glanced at Ron. "It can't be bad news."

Harry shook his head slightly. "That's-" he rubbed his hands on his knees and stood. "That's not… It's Wormtail. If only there was a bit of news about him."

"Mate, you know everyone thinks-"

"I know!" Harry glanced to the stairs, "I know," he whispered. "I just keep thinking about Voldemort showing up wherever I am, and… and I just want to be doing something more."

"Harry, you are doing something more." Hermione touched his shoulder. "You've read through an entire year's worth of lessons for two classes. The best thing we can do is learn as much as we can about magic." She looked at Ron again. "We need to be strong."

The room flared green, suddenly, and Harry stiffened, reaching for his wand; then the fire was glowing orange, and a man in long, sleek, black robes and hair falling casually around his face was tucking his wand back in his sleeve.

"Sirius?" Harry was incredulous.

"You clean up well, mate" Ron grinned.

"Sirius," Hermione smiled "everyone's asleep. We have to be quiet."

Sirius gestured dismissively, "I cast a ward against listening ears. No one would hear if I set off a bomb in here—How are you, Harry?" He pulled him into a hug.

"Sirius, how did you…? Where did you get the wand?"

Sirius laughed. "I'm staying somewhere safe with supplies." He waved a hand at his freshly cut hair and clean clothes. "Can't do what I need to do on the run." He flashed a smile. "I'm no Slytherin." Ron snorted.

"Sir," Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron, "what exactly is it that you need to do?"

"We'll get there," Sirius sat sideways on the chair near the fire, slinging one leg over the arm. "Tell me, what made you decide to study extra subjects?"

The trio looked at each other for a moment. "It was Harry's idea." Harry raised his eyebrows, and Hermione blushed. "Well, you did want to do something to prepare for You-Know-Who."

"Hermione came up with the brilliant idea to take more classes." Ron scowled at the ceiling. "_The more you know about magic, the better you can protect yourself._"

"She's quite right." Sirius chuckled, "Though I imagine trying to learn an entire year of lessons in one summer is a bit ambitious."

"_Thank you,_" Ron said heavily, turning to Hermione. "I _told_ you it was crazy."

Spots of color appeared in Hermione's cheeks. "Harry has already finished his books, Ronald."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, "So, what did you want to tell me?"

Sirius' lips twitched before his eyes settled on the boy in front of him, and he straightened on the chair. "I need your help, Harry." He sighed. "Yours and your friends'." He tapped his fingers on his knees, deciding. "Have you ever heard of the Fidelius charm?"

"Isn't that what Harry's parent's used to hide from Voldemort?" Hermione asked.

A grimace of pain flashed over Sirius' face before he stifled it. "Well, a lot of people used it back then. They might still, I'm sure." Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he sighed. "Well I need to find someone under the Fidelius Charm." He looked at Harry for a long moment. "Someone important to me. You see, when your parents made me your Godfather, they also made a woman your Godmother." Hermione gasped. Sirius glanced in her direction before quickly returning his gaze to Harry. "My woman."

Harry's eyes widened. "And-" he drew a breath, "who is this woman? Who was— this woman?"

"Her name was—is—Haeth. Haeth McTavish."

"McTavish?" Ron cut in, "The famous McTavish clan that vanished into thin air?"

"That's the one." Sirius said wryly. "You see their family magic focused on keeping secrets." He looked at Harry again. "Hiding things. And people. They performed the charm on you and your family. Unfortunately, the charm is only as strong as the will of the Secret Keeper." He tightened his grip on the chair. Slowly, released. "Haeth went into hiding just before you and your family did. At my urging. I don't know who the Secret Keeper is. I don't know where they are." He took another breath. "She was pregnant when she went."

Harry started when Hermione made a sharp noise. Sirius went on. "You have a god-sister, Harry."

The room was quiet, but for their breathing. Harry opened his mouth. Closed it.

"Well, who is she?"

Hermione elbowed Ron's ribs firmly.

"Ow!" Ron rubbed his side. "I'm only asking what we're all thinking, Hermione!"

"No, it's ok," Harry said. "I'm assuming you don't know who she is." He looked at Sirius sitting rigidly in the chair. "I mean, you wouldn't be asking for our help if you knew."

"I only know that she was born on October first in 1980. And that the secret was vested in her." He got up and moved to the fireplace. "I assume they sent her to Hogwarts under a false identity, and I can imagine that she would be as brilliant as her mother. The whole family was in Ravenclaw."

"But you were in Gryffindor," Hermione said. "And your family were all Slytherins."

"Yes."

"So all we know is that she is in our year and that she was raised by Ravenclaws."

"And that she would be good at keeping secrets." Ron put in.

"And that she's my god-sister." Harry whispered.

Sirius crossed to him. "Harry, we can't replace your Mum and Dad." He put his hands on Harry's shoulders. "We won't. But you have family who cares for you." Harry looked at him. "Will you help me to find them?"

Harry didn't say anything. For a long moment he just looked at Sirius until Sirius started to pull away his hands. Then he was wrapped around Sirius as though Sirius were a lone rock in a stormy sea.

"We'll find them, Sirius," Harry said into the black robes. "We'll find them together."

* * *

The room was silent for a long time after the crackle of the floo went silent. Harry was leaning back in his chair, resting his chin on his palm, staring into nothing. Ron whispered in Hermione's ear, and she hushed him.

"…him be…big deal, Ronald."

"Well, it's going on three in the morning, 'mione, I'm tired, and we don't know how long the charm Sirius cast will stay up."

Hermione sighed, and looked around the room cautiously. The floorboards creaked from the ceiling; someone was shifting in their beds.

"He's right," Harry shifted his gaze suddenly. "We should go up."

"Harry—"

"Don't worry, Hermione." Harry adjusted his jumper as he stood up. "It just isn't something I had ever considered before. I needed to adjust."

"How are we even going to look for her?" Ron stood as well. "It's not like we have any really clues to go on."

"We know she's in our year, and that in a huge difference from nothing." Hermione looked from Ron to Harry. "We can start by looking for grades, and then possibly looks." She moved to the doorway and turned to face the two boys. "I mean, we have to start somewhere, and there's a chance that she inherited some looks or mannerisms from Sirius."

Harry tucked his hands in his trousers, "Yea," he sighed. "Yea, you're right. We'll start with that."

"What I want to know," Ron whispered as they started up the stairs, "is how Sirius will react when we do find his daughter. I mean, family is important. That's why he set us looking for her, right?"

"I imagine he'll be happy." Hermione whispered back as they reached Ginny's landing. "Get some sleep, you two. I'm sure Ron's mum will have us working to clean up the party tomorrow."

The boys traipsed up the stairs silently, and tiptoed into Ron's room when they reached the last landing.

"Do you think she'll like us?" Harry wondered aloud.

Ron looked over, startled. "Well, I'm pretty amazing, but I'm sure she'll find something to like about you." He grinned and punched Harry's shoulder. "Come on, mate, don't worry so much."

Harry shrugged.

"Well, I'm knackered," Ron said through a yawn. "See you tomorrow."

"Yea," Harry said, lying down on his cot. "See you."

He stared at the snitch zooming across the Chudley Cannon's poster above Ron's bed for a long time before drifting off.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter Two: Innocence_

_Year Two, Summer_

The wind carried a childish and gleeful laughter over the hills and valleys of the McTavish manor to the veranda where Haeth and her mother were sitting having tea. Haeth smiled into her biscuit.

"Your garden is turning out lovely color this year, dear," her mother was saying. "The will o' the wisps make a lovely accent to your flaming lilies."

Haeth listened quietly, nodding and responding at the appropriate times, looking for all the world as though she would rather be anywhere but talking with her mother about her garden.

"Dear, are you alright?" her mother asked after a rather abnormally placed "_yes" _from her daughter. "You're not drinking a befuddlement draught are you?" She looked curiously toward her daughter's tea.

Haeth started from her thoughts. "Mum, _please_," she said, "I know the difference between scurlly-grass and lemon-grass." She looked away toward her herb garden swaying gently under the morning sun and sighed. "Better if I were drinking rosehips and puffapod seeds."

Mrs. McTavish set down her tea and moved to the seat closest to her daughter. "What's bothering you, Haeth?"

Heath looked away, toward the sprawling hills of their western grounds and the woods beyond them. "Syra is going into her second year at Hogwarts," she started, holding her white-gold curls away from the breeze coming from the south, "and little Livy will be joining her."

Mrs. McTavish gave a knowing nod. "Empty nests can be a scary thought," she stroked her daughter's hand, "especially when they're so young. Syra's a smart lass; she'll do alright. And Livy... well, we all know who gets who out of the trouble around here. Don't you feel better knowing that Syra has her best friend with her?"

Haeth's pursed her lips and shook her head slightly. "That's just it, mum. Olivia being at school will be a big boost of confidence for Syra; she'll have someone to talk to about her life. We all heard what happened at the end of last year with Harry and Voldemort. She's been asking questions about what her father was like at Hogwarts since she's been back. I'm afraid she might start another Marauders group, or try to connect with Harry. You know I don't believe for a second that Voldemort is gone; that evil bastard will do anything to secure his power. It just wouldn't be safe for her to be in the spotlight next to Harry."

"You know, I recall a certain young girl giving her teachers a flyabout over a missing venomous tentacula..." she said slyly. "Don't think you have any control over what will happen at Hogwarts when you're not there. The girls will do what they do, and they will learn to pick themselves up without you." She put her arm around Haeth as a brilliantly-red haired woman came out of the kitchen to clear away the dishes. "You have to trust her. And you have to trust that she'll learn to trust you, if she hasn't already. She knows the dangers of visibility at Hogwarts. I, for one, will be glad once Livy joins her at school; she'll have someone to scheme with who knows the importance of her secrets-Thank you, Charlotte."

The red-headed beauty tipped her head with respect, "Of course, Ma'm, and" turning to Haeth as she picked up the last of the cups, "you should listen to your mother, Haeth. My Olivia would never betray your secrets, much less Syra's. She worships the ground that girl walks on, always has. Our family would stand by yours 'til the grave, we would."

"Oh, Lotti," Haeth gently gripped her friend's hand, "I'm sorry. You know I trust your daughter as I do my own-more so, most of the time." Haeth sighed again, shrugging back her shoulders. "You're probably right, as usual. I'm just worried about them and their antics." She looked across the rolling hills beyond the garden, searching. "I wish he were here. I often find myself looking out expecting him to bound through the treeline."

"Oh, love," her mother said, "It'll be alright." She wrapped her arm around her daughter's shoulders. "It'll be alright."

* * *

Olivia howled with laughter, flinging her wild red curls back in glee, as Syra found her feet in a pile of horse dung.

"Funny, Wind Dancer," Syra said, making a face at the chestnut bay grazing on the side of the hill. "Very funny. See if I muck out your stall tonight." The horse snorted and went back to the hillside.

"Oh relax, Syra, it's not like he left that there hoping you would step in it," Olivia chuckled.

"Oh, he's laughing alright," Syra said, "but he says he's laughing because I was careless enough to step where I pleased." She made another face at the horse.

"Well he's got a point there," Olivia smirked, "You do tend to act without thinking." She shrieked and dodged Syra's shoe. "What? You don't believe me? Let's list off all the schemes I've gotten you out of, just in the past month!" She was grinning as she held up her fingers. "We've got Chloe's mince pies that I had to say my _magic_ splattered all over the wall," She held up one finger while Syra started laughing, "-Please, you know the only reason they took that is because I acted so excited about it; going to Hogwarts is only reason I enjoy accidental magic-", Syra snorted into her long curls.

"Shush, you," Olivia retorted, "and don't get me started on Mrs. Courney and her goats."  
"Oh, that was _grand_," Syra smiled nostalgically, "Can you believe the milk started shooting out her ears?! What a brilliant ending." Syra pulled Olivia's wild red hair. "That's one prank that'll make history, Livy, mark me."

Despite her forbidding look, Olivia seemed to be laughing silently. "I'm just hoping you don't get me on the Professor's bad side at school in the fall. You know I want to do well."

"Oh Livy, you worry too much," Syra wrapped her arms around her best friend. "The way you study- you'll be so far on their good side, even McGonagall will let you get away with anything."

"It's not all about studying Syra," Olivia said. "It's about performance. If I can _pull off_what I study, then we're talking."

"Livy, you need to relax. You've been spouting accidental magic from all your openings since you came here." Syra squeezed Olivia's arm. "You'll be fine."

"Perhaps," Olivia scrunched her nose as Syra's imagery, "but can you just do what you promised and teach me the rest of the magical theory you learned last year?"

Syra smirked and stood, looking toward the woods at the edge of the valley. "We've already gone over Charms and Defense theory. You know I always keep my word," She pulled Livy to her feet. "Besides, you read my books last year, and reread them this summer, and my mum has taught you about herbology since we were bobbies. You're far ahead of where I was when I started Hogwarts," her smirk softened into a smile, "Let's take the wood path back home," she said, reaching for Wind Dancer's mane and pulling herself onto the horse's back. "I haven't caught up with the animals yet."

Olivia sighed as she followed Syra onto Wind Dancer. "I wish I had your Talent. I'm tired of just imagining what they're thinking."

"Well, it isn't thinking as much as feeling," Syra corrected, "so if you can understand their mood, then you can get an impression of what they're trying to say."

"Yes, I'm sure it's as easy as that." Olivia rolled her eyes.

"It is!" Syra insisted. "Take Wind Dancer's name. That's just what I use to describe the feeling he gets when he runs across the valley. The animals think of him as that because that's his favorite thing to do."

"That makes sense," Olivia said, "if you're able to not think with words at all."

"Well, they don't, so you have to describe their thoughts for yourself." Syra chuckled. "Wind Dancer says you think too much."  
"Oh, thanks," Olivia stuck her tongue out at the horse, "You're so kind." Her face turned to a smile as Syra's chuckle turned into belly laughter.

The woods were cheery, alive with the sounds of the daily lives of woodland creatures and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees reaching toward the sky. Syra and Olivia sat astride Wind Dancer as he wove through Birch, Rowan, and Ash trees; their hair, black and red sparks in the slats of light coming through the branches. These woods were as familiar to them as their own bedrooms, so they easily spotted the animal homes, and called out to the bowtruckles clutching the tree boughs, deer in bush dens, squirrels in tree trunks, and snidgets nesting in the leaves as they passed.

"How are the deer doing? Did the newborn make it to the summer?" Olivia asked.

Syra smiled and pointed to their left, where a young spotted fawn was grazing on some weeds at the base of an Ash. "The Bowtruckles asked them to prune the grasses around the Ash trees," Syra said. "They call him Frolics with Leaves, I think."

Wind Dancer snorted and shook his mane as he walked, and made Syra laugh.

"He says, 'They only call him that because he's too young to frolic with does,'" Syra translated. Laughing and joking, they passed the willow meadows and creeks and went through the final treeline to reach the edge of the stable-pastures on the McTavish lands.

"Oh, what time is it?" Olivia asked, looking up at the sky.

"Dunno," Syra said, "Must be nearly supper."

"Ah, let's go to the kitchens first!" Olivia said, "My mum is baking treacle tarts today!"

Syra readily agreed, and, after brushing Wind Dancer down and setting him some hay, they went down the hill to the South side of the house.

Olivia's mom was beautiful, in Syra's mind. She had passed her curly dark-red hair to her daughter, though her daughter's curls were decidedly wilder, as well as her bright green almond-shaped eyes. But her face was rounder than Olivia's. She was rounder. Her skin had an ever present flush from being in the hot kitchens-which Syra's mother had tried to get her to stop thinking of herself as a servant and more as part of the family; Miss Charlotte would have none of it-earning her way was "vital to her well-being and a good lesson for her little girl", as she frequently reminded her best friend. But Syra's favorite thing about her best friend's mother was none of these things that made her just who she was. It was her rolling laughter and generous hand. She got a fair amount of treats from the kitchens-even when she'd been misbehaving. Syra had a feeling that Miss Charlotte liked her little schemes and gave her treats as a thank you for a good laugh.

"Syra," Olivia broke her friend out of her thoughts. "Do you think we'll get our Hogwarts letters today?" She looked at her friend hopefully.

"Maybe," Syra said, smiling at her childhood friend. "We won't know until after supper." She pushed open the door to the kitchens, and they were immediately enveloped in a sweet steam smelling of treacle, roast pork, and loaves of bread.

"I love coming in after a cold day," Olivia said happily, smiling into the neat, but misty kitchen. "Mum, where are you?"  
Charlotte McDunnough came in from the pantry, her red curls escaping the bun wound tightly at the nape of her neck. "Girls! How was the forest? Any new stories?" she asked in her almost incomprehensible scottish brogue as she put four tarts on a plate for them.

Charlotte smiled to herself as they stumbled over each other telling the stories of the baby deer and the young squirrel family traveling from southern Britain and catching her up on the exploits of the common characters of the forest.

"You two had an adventure today, and I suppose you didn't come here just to relay your stories, did you?" her eyes crinkled at the corners as guilty expressions flashed over the girl's faces. "Well," she took the plate of tarts from the counter behind her, "don't let me keep you, I'm sure there are plenty of books that need reading before supper."

Olivia stretched on her toes to give her mum a kiss on the cheek-"Thanks, mum"-as Syra took the plate and started towards the door.  
"Come on, Livy, we can work on Transfiguration theory today!" she opened the door with her back. "Thanks, Miss Charlotte!"

The girls trotted through the door and made their way through the antechamber into the dining room with Charlotte's call of "Supper's in two hours!" ringing behind them.

The library was the largest room in the house, as it was both a library and a ballroom, with the books on an upper level and the dancing floor down a short flight of stairs; Syra's grandad always said a good book was best enjoyed to music. They set their books and treacle tarts up on a table next to the grand piano, where Olivia preferred to sit, as it had a nice view out of the window, and Syra, having finished her summer work early in the month, walked over to the modern phonograph that Miss Charlotte had found her for a Christmas gift two years prior and put on her favorite muggle record. When Miss Charlotte gave the record to Syra, she had sat down and explained the muggle instruments to her best friend's daughter; together, they worked out the rhythms and idiosyncrasies of the record, and Syra discovered a love of muggle music, especially jazz and classical.

As Olivia settled into her book on Transfiguration, Syra listened to the upbeat rhythms and melody of the saxophone, moving her body to each new phrase of the musical story. A twist speeding into a slow stretch of her arm towards the horns later, Olivia asked Syra how Transfiguration theory was different from Charms, as they seemed the same to her, according to the introduction of the book.

A backward reach and a half-circle with the opposite leg. "What do you remember from Charms theory?" Syra asked, propelling herself into small circles to create a larger circle around the room.

Olivia brushed the curls framing her face behind her head, and twisted them in place with a quill. "From what I gather, intent is the most important thing in charms and hexes. Visualization and willing that into existence, right?" She looked at her best friend for confirmation.

A final jump, twisting in the air to tumble to a stop. "Yes, you are correct, there. But what of the definition of charms?" Syra said after several moments, walking over and reached for the transfiguration book and opened it to the introduction.

Olivia answered without a second thought, "It is the practice of making people, objects, and animals behave in a way out of the ordinary, like when you made the cheese bounce around the dinner table the other day," she grinned, "How did you manage that without your wand, by the way?"

Syra leaned back against the piano in reminiscence. "Ah, yes, that took some tricky herb work. I put crushed titillapod leaves in the cheese while I made it, and had only intended for them to tickle on the way down. How could I know that I would cause the cheese itself to be tickled?" She laughed, "Of course, mum hasn't let me in her garden unattended since, which makes it hard for me to get olichard seeds to crush for a bruise salve." She made a face, "Ah, well, the price for having some fun." She turned back to Olivia, and pushed the transfiguration book towards her. "Now, you've read this before, so you should understand the basis of transfiguration magic, but with your understanding of Charms theory, how is Transfiguration different?"

Olivia thought about it for a minute. "Well, you're not exactly changing the behavior of an object with transfiguration; you're changing the object itself, using the common virtues or traits that it shares with another object."

"Hmm, that's what had me confused at first in Professor McGonagall's class. But she made it clear that it's a fine distinction between changing an object itself, and changing just the appearance of an object, as you do in transfiguration. In transfiguration, as best as I can explain, you are merely changing the exterior of the object through the virtue or trait of similarity to match the exterior of another. For example," Syra gestured to the table they were sitting at, "this desk, I could change to a bear, theoretically, and the desk would act as much like a bear as it could understand, through its similarities, but it would still know that it was just a desk, and, as such, would be limited by that knowledge. Though I still don't understand inanimate to animate object transfiguration yet. It's something like year four knowledge, I think."

Olivia sat for a moment, "So you're saying that if I were to change this book to a matchbox, it wouldn't be able to set fire to anything, because it's still only made of a tree, and doesn't have all that makes up a match?"

Syra sighed in relief. "You always know how to work around my pitiful explanations. Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

Olivia looked as though a light had gone off in her mind. "Ah, I'm going to re-read this book with that in mind. Thanks!"

Syra smiled at her friend's obvious love of learning, and went back to the ballroom floor. She loved to dance. She'd tried explaining why to Olivia once. 'I don't know' she'd said, and tried to explain with her hands moving around like the leaves in the wind; Sometimes she felt like she was more animal than human when she tried to speak her mind. Syra could never describe how animals could just _understand_, but Olivia just watched and nodded to the rhythm of her movements.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the record scratched to a stop, allowing the sound of her mother entering the room to catch her attention.

"Girls, dinner will be ready in a few minutes, why don't you put those books away and get ready?"

"Oh, food!" Syra looked at her mother with her stomach in her eyes.

"You just ate all those tarts!" Olivia laughed and switched off the phonograph.

"That was ages ago! I'm hungry enough to eat a whole chicken!" Syra smirked as they walked to their bedrooms to change.

* * *

The dining room was quite large, with stone walls and tapestries with wizarding history dancing across their threads and a large hearth that rose to the height of a man and warmed the room with its flickering flames. The table that sat perpendicular to the hearth was smaller than one would expect in a room of this magnitude, as it stretched only across the centered rug on the floor, and the rest of the room was filled with large squashy couches and chairs for after-supper tea and cakes. The family seated at the table was enjoying the roast pork that had flavored the cookroom with its scent earlier that day and laughing at the floating light show dancing above their heads.

"-and the Minister showed up," a wizard with white hair and a paunch was saying, "all pomp and ceremony, waving his wand like a fresh-born bobbie: 'I gave no order for this! You are meeting here in contempt of my office!'"

As the wizard spoke, the lights above the family flashed and collected into a group of smaller lights surrounding a larger, yellow one. The yellow tinged light slowly grew and formed a human shape, promptly shaking a finger at the other, now human-shaped lights, and the family laughed again.

"Lady Longbottom told him to stuff it,"- one of the smaller lights grew purple and smacked the yellow light on its head-"and I quite agreed. What goes on in our children's schools is as much our business as it is our children's; if there is evidence or even rumors that Lord Voldemort is attempting to return, we should know." He looked at his granddaughter, whose laughter was subsiding and her jade eyes turned somberly to him. "Our children should know, if only to be prepared for the changes to come." The lights dimmed to a dull blue and spread out over their heads, waiting.

Haeth looked sharply at her father, "I agree that honesty is the best way to prepare children for the world around them, but," she gestured to the table, "family dinner, papa? This room is better suited for laughter, not the somber tones of a study room."

Charlotte sat tensely at Haeth's side, looking as though she wanted to say something, but unwilling to enter her thoughts for consideration. She looked at her daughter.

Lady McTavish called for the house-elves to clear the table, and bring the mail. "Come now, we have better topics to discuss-Thank you, Cady." The smooth-skinned house-elf bowed and disappeared; while the lights shifted colors and vibrated, as though excited. "I believe that a certain young lady is waiting for a letter...," she smiled kindly at Olivia, who blushed and reached out excitedly for a yellowed envelope that read: _Miss Olivia McDunnough, Bedroom above the Library, McTavish Manor, _and moved to a big chair in front of the fire.

"Mum, when can we go to Diagon Alley?" Olivia asked, "There are some books here that we don't have in the Manor."

Charlotte looked at Haeth tensely. "Dear," she started, "we have to talk about _how_ we're going to go to Diagon Alley-"

Lady McTavish interrupted, "Don't you worry about a thing, now, Charlotte. We'll _all_ go, as a family, with some notice-me-not charms." She looked at the young girls with a stern eye. "They both know the dangers involved with running about without one of us, and the disappointment we would feel if they gave us the slip."

Syra thought of dark-cloaked wizards surrounding her father, and grimaced. "Ack, Grams, you know I wouldn't. Mum knows I wouldn't."

Olivia's face turned determined and resolute, and Lady McTavish nodded.

"Right then," she turned to Charlotte again, "Is that acceptable?"

Olivia's mother grimaced and agreed, the lights above their heads pulsing a sickly purple. All together, as though it were previously agreed upon, the family moved to the comfortable-looking chairs and sofas around the fire and the lights coalesced and moved above the plush bronze-colored rug. Olivia continued to read the list of necessaries for school, while Syra sat in the center of the bronze rug, where she was immediately encased in a sphere of the lights,which started to form script and pictures, spinning around Syra slowly.

Lord McTavish lowered his wand from the lights, which were clearly formed into phrases and moving images now, and said, "Alright, Syra, the riddle's key word is _Swelling_. This one is an hour long." Everyone gathered around, shouting suggestions-or distractions, and Olivia looked up from her list to watch.

Syra grinned impishly, and read the text, "I am saturated and yet filled with nothing," which exploded into an image of a cloudburst that swirled around in a sphere of raining light.

"What am I raining?" she asked, and the lights merged and changed. She loved this game; her grandparents and mother always found a way for it to teach her something new, and it was always in motion, always progressing and evolving.

The lights moved across hills and through trees, now, and she called out the connection she had come to, "Wind, like floating leaves and flying birds." She was like Wind Dancer in that way, she loved the freedom of movement and flying free in her own little world-free from constraints and rules and judgements falling from wandtips.

The lights changed and merged into text and image rapidly, and she struggled to keep her thoughts in motion. The images of exploding forces in the world kept bringing her thoughts back to her father. Her mother told her stories of her father every night, as she readied for sleep; he seemed wild somehow, like her animals, and always looking for the next challenge-the next adventure. And yet, the image that came to mind whenever she thought of him was of a young man, hands placed on either side of her mother's face, a look of wonder and firm devotion in his eyes-like he was grounded by her, like she was the tree that housed his treasures.

Syra kept that photograph next to her bed, wherever she was.

The lights coalesced into text: "I am sated, yet ever-hungry; rooted, yet ever-reaching."

Suddenly she understood: the riddle was about the feeling of uncontainable emotion, the ever-bubbling over pot on the stove, the ever-blowing wind-_love_. She called out her parents' names, and the lights, reacting to her, dispersed and re-formed, briefly, into the picture at her bedside before disappearing completely.

"Well done!" Haeth cheered with everyone, "You are a true Ravenclaw-always looking beyond the obvious." She stood and grasped her daughter in a hug, and kissed her.

"Mum, you know I'm not as bookish as all the other Ravenclaws," Syra said with her lips twisting into a grimace, "I might end up with a mind more suited to _solving_ problems than _creating _them." She smiled innocently.

Everyone laughed as Haeth groaned. "Annnd, we're back to troublemaker. I'm going to stop telling you stories of your papa, little girl."

"I think the damage has been done," Lady McTavish said, a smile ghosting her face as her granddaughter stuck her tongue out.

Charlotte smiled as the family continued to exchange barbs, and reached out to her daughter, "We'll go tomorrow, child. We only have two weeks left until you're off to Hogwarts, and I know you want to look over your books before you leave." She squeezed her daughter's hand as Olivia beamed at her. "Well I'm knackered. Good night all." She stood and kissed everyone before walking out the hallway door. Haeth, a shadow briefly passing over her face, gave her good night wishes and followed.

* * *

"Hogwarts has never been closer!" Olivia exclaimed to her best friend as they walked to their bedrooms. "I feel like I can do magic already!"

Syra smirked, "You _can _do magic already, silly. Didn't I say that you had magic spurting out of all your holes today?"

"Ack, Syra, that's gross!" Olivia pushed her friend into a tapestry, ignoring the laughter echoing in the hall.

"Alright, alright, I give," Syra laughed, rubbing her shoulder. They walked silently for a few more hallways, when they heard a soft weeping and murmuring. Shocked, they looked at each other for a moment before creeping quietly to the doorway at the end of the hall.

"-know if I can stand it, Haeth," Olivia's mother was saying in a soft, tear-choked voice, "How will I ever know if he'll find her there? Just going off the grounds is dangerous!"

"Oh, Lotti." Haeth whispered back. "We all know the dangers of our children going to Hogwarts. But we can't deny them the opportunity for change and learning! You've seen them these past few years; they hardly stay in the house for all the interest it hold to them. They're restless, and need somewhere new to explore. Holding her back for your own fear will make her resent you. We must trust them to act in a way that will best serve their safety, as we have taught them."

Olivia shot a startled look at Syra, who motioned for her to be quiet.

Charlotte let out a harsh laugh. "You sound like your mother now. You can't have let your own fears of Syra acting out and grabbing attention at school rest."

Syra bit her lip as her brows furrowed. _Was her mother really worried that she was going to do something stupid? Didn't she trust her?_

"Yes, I do still fear for Syra's safety, but that is the job of a mother. I trust Syra to use her head before doing anything." Syra relaxed at that. "She may be a great deal like her father, but she's got my brains-Sirius will never forgive me," she sounded like she was amused about that, "But Livy's father is something we can't control, just like Voldemort is something we can't control. If you want Olivia to survive in this world, you have to teach her how, not smuggle her away and keep her from it. You'll fail. And then where would she be?"

"I would be here. With you. Happy, but miserable; and always wondering what lay beyond the forest." Olivia had turned the corner before Syra could stop her. The two adults turned abruptly, shock written on their features. "I love you mother, but I can't stay here forever. Not when I know what I could be learning and doing outside of it."

Syra sighed and followed her friend. Her mother and Miss Charlotte didn't seem to have found their voices yet.

"I want to learn magic. I need to learn about this other part of meself. I don't know where father is. I don't want to know. But if I don't learn magic, he'll be able to hurt us if he does find us. I want to protect us." She looked imploringly at her mother, who just teared up and took her daughter into her arms.

"I'm sorry my love," she said. "I just don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."

"I know mum," Olivia said into her mother's shoulder, "I love you, too."

"Mum," Syra spoke up, "we have the mirrors that Papa made for you. We can use them to keep in touch more often. That way," she turned to Miss Charlotte, "You can see Livy for yourself, and know that she's ok."

Haeth smiled at her daughter, "Have I ever told you that I love who you are?"

Syra blushed, then hesitated. "You know, I was thinking-" she bit her lip again.

The others looked at her expectantly.

"Papa was an animagus," she said. Haeth raised an eyebrow, and Syra went on hurriedly. "We all know that I want to be one just for that reason alone, but, now... well, wouldn't it be a good disguise? I mean, if anything _were _to happen, wouldn't it be a good thing if Olivia and I had something to use to hide?"

Charlotte looked at Haeth. "You know, she's right. I would feel much better knowing that Livy had a way out-a way to keep from being found."

"And I'm already an Anivox," Syra went on, gaining steam, "It would help, theoretically, in understanding the mind of an animal for the transformation, but it would also help in gaining the trust of animals if we had to hide among them."  
Olivia seemed enamored by the idea, and her face shone with hope as she looked at her best friend's mother. Haeth chewed her lip for a long moment while she turned over the idea of her daughter becoming an unregistered animagus with her best friend. Slowly, she nodded her head.

"Alright," she said, while Syra and Olivia beamed in anticipation, "I'll help you, but _only_ if you _promise_ to be careful, and not use the transformation unnecessarily."

The girls readily agreed, and the idea was set in motion: They would take the mirrors to school, and receive help through them from Haeth. And their mothers both felt better knowing that they would have a way to check up on their daughters whenever they felt the need.

Syra grinned as she folded down her bedsheets. She was going to be an animagus! Like her Papa! She understood that Livy needed to be able to protect herself if her own father-_bastard that he was_, she thought bitterly-were to pop up anywhere, and she was going to do her best to help her friend however she could. But lying in her bed in the late hours of the night, she couldn't help but imagine running the Hogwarts grounds late at night, playing with the same animals her Papa did. Running under the same moon as her Papa.

She looked over at the picture on her nightstand. _Goodnight Papa._.

* * *

Coming next time: Olivia's goes to Hogwarts, and Syra meets Luna!

_Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review with your thoughts._

_WingedBlack_


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter Three: The Beginning_

_Year Two, Fall_

Platform 9 3/4 was bustling all around them, and Olivia couldn't help but feel as though she would disappear into the crowd if she let her family get out of her sight. She was walking with Syra, already having said their goodbyes to their mothers, and she kept glancing back at the brilliant color of her mother's hair. Their mothers were standing at the Platform Floo, waving; Syra's was using polyjuice potion, and looked like the seamstress in the village near the manor. Syra's hand squeezed, and she felt herself being pulled into a carriage of the train; everything was gleaming, and there were young witches and wizards lugging their trunks behind them, pushing and standing and stumbling all over. Following Syra's full, wavy hair into an empty cabin, she heaved her trunk onto the storage hanging, and felt her robes for her wand. Pulling it out, she examined it for the millionth time since Mr. Ollivander had handed it to her. It was a beautiful wand, in her opinion; Made of willow, it had spirals of the old style concentrated on the grip dispersing toward the tip. Mr. Ollivander had told her that willow wood was especially good with healing magic, and, combined with the dragon heartstring core, he would be expecting wonderful things from her. She wasn't sure what to think about that.

_Healing._ The idea of it interested her; the ability to wipe away hurt or pain like it never had existed. She didn't know much beyond the possible uses of wand wood toward its purpose, though. _I'll look in the library for some books on it. _

"Want to get some wand practice in now that you can use magic?" Syra asked as soon as the train got moving. Olivia looked up. Syra had her wand out and was levitating a bracelet around the cabin. Syra's wand was rather warm looking, almost as if its intention was to make you feel happy, cozy, and loved—if wands could have an intention. Applewood and pheonix feather, she had told her. It even sounded warm.

"What should I do first?" Olivia asked.

"Well you've been practicing the motions all summer with a stick, so you should be fine with most things from the first few chapters." Syra levitated the bracelet to the table against the window. "Why don't you try levitating the bracelet?"

Olivia thought for a moment, "Wingardium Leviosa?" Syra smiled in confirmation. Concentrating on her wand, Olivia moved her wrist in the practiced movement used for this particular spell; "Wingardium Leviosa!" she cried.

The bracelet shook, as though struggling to rise, and then shuddered to a standstill as Olivia let out an exasperated breath.

"What did I do wrong?" she muttered, "I used the swish and flick movement. I said the words right; what went wrong?" She looked up to chuckling coming from Syra across the cabin.

"What were you thinking of, Livy?"

"Uh.. The spell, of course." She furrowed her brow. "What should I have been thinking of?"

"The _effect_ of the spell." Syra flicked her wand again, and the bracelet rose gracefully. "_That_ is where the control comes from. I've noticed if I'm angry, this spell works more…vigorously. I haven't managed to control that effect yet." She dropped the bracelet to the table again, and looked up at Olivia. "But if you don't _will_ what you wish to happen, it won't. That's why we practice the movement and incantation to the point of doing it in our sleep. So we don't have to think about it."

She motioned to the bracelet. "Try again."

Olivia took a breath. Thinking of the bracelet floating up to the ceiling, she rose her wand, and called out the incantation again. Nothing happened. "What..?"

"You didn't move your wand, Livy."

Letting out a huff. She tried again. And again. It took three more attempts before she managed it. The bracelet floated up and dropped abruptly when she lost concentration in shock. "I did it!"

She grinned delightedly at Syra, who grinned back. "Excellent, Livy! Practice makes perfect."

Olivia lifted her wand again to start the incantation, when the door to the cabin slid open to reveal a small girl with long, messy blond curls and a dazed expression.

"Hello," she said as she lifted her trunk above her head and sat down next to Syra's feet. "The train is full of wonderful things. Did you know that a student three cabins over has a moonfrog as his pet?"  
"A.." Olivia looked at Syra for help, "Moonfrog?"

"Yes," the girl nodded her head vaguely. "You can tell because it keeps sneaking off to find a way back to the moon. It's good luck if you find it."

"Um, that sounds nice," Syra said. "What's your name?"

"Oh, Luna," the girl widened her blue eyes seriously. "Luna Lovegood."

"Uh, it's nice to meet you, Luna." Syra glanced at Olivia again. "I'm Syra McDunnough, and this is my sister, Olivia."  
"You can call me Livy."

Luna looked at the two girls with a tilted head. "You don't look much alike."

"Oh I look like my mother," Olivia said quickly.

"I look like my father," Syra rushed over her.

Luna looked at them for another long moment, before settling her arms around her ankles, pulling her feet close. "I wonder what house I'll end up in."  
Seizing the new topic, Olivia said, "Oh you're a first year, too?"  
"Yes, I suppose I am."

Olivia and Syra exchanged another long look. "I'm in Ravenclaw," Syra put in.

"Oh that sounds nice," Luna said, "I like puzzles."

"Me, too," Syra said with a smile.

"I just like to learn." Olivia tucked a quill in a twist of her hair.

"Well you're in the right place for that, I hear"

The girls looked at each other and a moment later the cabin was filled with laughter.

The countryside whirled past the window, and slowly darkened as the conversation morphed into something a bit more comfortable, with Luna pulling out her copy of _The Quibbler_, and Olivia trying out more spells with Syra.

"I hope the whole year is like this," Olivia said.

"Me too," Syra looked out the window. "I can't wait for the look on Mum's face when I detail my first prank this year," she looked at Olivia, "It'll be so much better with your help this year."

"No, no," Olivia had her hands up cautiously. "I'm here to learn, not to get in trouble! Ask Luna for help. She's creative enough to make the best pranks with you."

"I'm not sure I would be any good at that," the blonde piped up. "I like to avoid wrackspurts."

"You like to avoid _what_?"

"Wrackspurts. They fly in your ears and make you do things that you wouldn't want to. Confuse you."

Syra roared with laughter. "I like you. I'm going to keep you around, Luna."

"Thank you," Luna said seriously. "I like friends."

"Me, too, Luna," Syra said in between gasps of laughter. "Me, too."

* * *

The great hall was as magnificent from the inside as it was from the outside. The brilliant light she saw flickering from the windows when boating over the lake turned out to be millions of candles floating twenty feet above their heads with wax that seemed to disappear after dripping from the bottom of the sticks. And the ceiling… well she didn't have words to describe how she felt about that bit of magic—it was definitely a spell she wanted to learn. There were hundreds, more than hundreds, of students crowding the four tables filling the floor space, and, suddenly, she was nervous, and the sight of the professors sitting almost majestically at the head of the hall didn't help any; if the stern, tall woman leading them through the center of the room was any guide, they weren't wizards or witches to cross.

Desperately, her green eyes sought out the table to her far right, where Syra said she'd be sitting, but there were hundreds of people sitting. Suddenly, she felt a brush of air against her arm, and looking towards her direct right, she saw Syra, smiling encouragingly. She sighed in relief, smiling back.

They stopped short of the head table. There, sitting on a stool in the center of the platform, was a ratty looking old hat, just as Syra had said.

It opened up it's brim and started singing a little ditty about the houses, something about traits and such. She wasn't paying attention. There were so many people, it felt like they were pressing in on her. She tried to suck in—make room for them—but the room felt like the air had gone.

And then Syra was there, her hand closing around Olivia's, and the warmth felt like a shield had gone up. Her face was looking out from her left; she had moved tables somehow, and was sitting next to two lanky redheaded boys, who were looking at her with thoughtful looks.

The woman was speaking now, but Olivia was looking at Syra, her familiar face like a beacon in a sea of fog. _It's ok, _she mouthed. _You'll be fine. _

Olivia took a breath, firmed her lips, and nodded. Pulling a quill from her robes, she faced the front of the hall and tucked her hair away from her face.

"Hall, Anthony" became a Gryffindor, and with a while to go, she looked up at the ceiling again, fascinated by the stars dancing with the clouds. Syra's grandfather had taught them a bit about the stars when they had late nights with the family. She was surprised to see Equus Primus almost magnified somehow, with a tiny bit of Pegasus next to it in the corner of the ceiling. She remembered Lord McTavish saying it was one of the smallest constellations in the sky, but she felt like she could see it as she would see Orion. Maybe Lepus.

"Lovegood, Luna" broke into her reverie, and she looked down to see her new friend mounting the stool, her messy hair around her like a cloak. "RAVENCLAW" came from the hat, and she went to sit with Syra, who had found her way back to her house table.

"Macey, Brian" went to Hufflepuff, "Malbourne, Ruth" became a Slytherin, and "March, Josephine" became a Gryffindor; and then she heard her own name called. Firming her shoulders, she walked forward as steadily as she could and sat on the stool before the hat dropped over her eyes. She tried not to jump as a rough male voice spoke into her ear softly. She knew that no one could hear it but her, but she still had to stop her hands from going up to block out the sound from the brim.

_Oh, what secrets have we here? Hiding yourself; hiding the Black girl; hiding your mother. _

_Please, don't, _she thought back, squeezing her eyes against memory.

_Not cunning, then. Desperation. Survival. Don't worry, girl, each person's thought stay private to their own heads. You're brave, though, coming out of safety for knowledge, and you want to learn more than most here. _

_Please, can't I be with Syra? _she thought desperately.

_You'd do well in Ravenclaw, that's true, but you have a need for support in you that won't be gotten there._

_All I need is Syra._

The hat seemed to shake its head sadly. _People grow apart as they get older. You need the bonds of House and Home. _

Olivia's shoulder fell in defeat and disappointment as the hat called out "HUFFLEPUFF!"

She avoided looking at the Ravenclaw table. Sitting at the table in front of her to the left, she tried to receive the congratulations from her fellow classmates gracefully. The were quite a few happy faces looking at her, and she felt hopeful that she might find a few friends, but she couldn't help but feel like she let Syra down.

She felt numb through the rest of the sorting and through Dumbledore's speech, and sat with her eyes locked on the table in front of her, not even attempting to cheer with the rest of her new house when they received a new member. It wasn't until a golden plate appeared underneath her nose that she noticed the rumbling in her belly. Looking up, she saw a multitude of food, and everyone was digging in to their delight. She reached out for a spoon in a dish of green beans in a sort of white sauce, and noticed that the person in front of her was looking straight at her.

"Hi," he said. "You looked sort of lost for a while. Did you find yourself, again?"

The boy looked older by quite a few years, but his eyes were kind, and he was smiling at her. Blushing, she stammered out a yes, and tried to explain, but he waved her off.

"It's not really all that unusual to be separated from your siblings," he paused, and furrowed his brow slightly, "I'm sorry, what's your name again?"

She forced her hand to relax on her fork, and told him, "But you can call me Livy."

The boy smiled again, "My name is Dirk. Frederick, really, but people call me Dirk." He lowered his voice and leaned in, "'m not much of a Fred," and laughed. She felt the beginnings of real comfort and smiled back. "Anyway," he continued, "we get a lot of people in different houses from their brothers and sisters. I'm used to cheering first years up during this meal." Reaching out for some meatloaf wrapped in some sort of vegetable, he went on, "So, what's your interest, Scot's girl?"

Olivia looked up from her casserole, "My what?"

"Your interest. What do you want to learn the most?"

"Oh, everything, really," she said, "but Mr. Ollivander told me my wand was best for Healing? Is that s subject here?"

He rose his eyebrows. "Healing, eh? You've got a willow wand? That's unusual, that is." He shoveled another forkful of meatloaf into his mouth and chewed. "Well, no classes for Healing here, but you can talk to Madam Pomfrey if you like. She's the Mediwitch here. Would know lots about that wort of thing. And other things that would go with it, too."

"Really?" her eyes lit up at the prospect of something she could do to learn a subject that others might not. "Thank you! What about Potions? Syra says that it's very similar to cooking, which is something I do with my mum. I think I'd like that, too."

"Ah," he swallowed. "Well, that's Professor Snape. He's not here right now, strangely, but I'd be careful around him. He's a bit touchy, and definitely favors the Slytherins. He's Slytherin Head of House. Not supposed to, but he does."

Making a non-committal noise, she chewed her bread thoughtfully, sipping her pumpkin juice to wash it down.

The first professor that she knew she would have to tip toe around. She sat back for a second, and wondered how she might approach him if she wanted to know something unusual about Potions.

"I see you like challenges, then," Dirk laughed. "Not the first to be tamed by the wild beast known as Snape."

The food and plates suddenly vanished, and she nearly jumped off the bench. Dirk laughed just a little harder than he had been. She made a face at the table.

"Another summer gone, and another school year begun. I hope that we will have a wonderful year together, but, first, a few start of term notices…" Professor Dumbledore's speech went on for a few minutes, and Olivia realized just how tired she was. _Must be all that food. _And then, the tables were up and there were crowds of students following a bunch of older students. She looked around, trying to find Syra, but she couldn't in that mix. Resigned, she followed a mousey girl wearing a yellow and black striped scarf out of the hall and down the stairs to the right of the entrance to the Great Hall. The group stopped in front of a painting of fruit, and the mousey girl explained how to tap the correct barrel just right in order to open the common room.

Once inside, Olivia knew she'd come to the right place. It looked like a cozy underground greenery with copper knobs and greenery everywhere, and little round doors leading to who knows what. She couldn't wait to write to Miss Haeth about it. She often walked with Haeth when she was tending to her flowers. Stuffed chairs and sofas were arranged all around the room, some with tables conveniently oriented, some without, and there was a fireplace with a large oval portrait of a plump, elderly witch hanging above it; the witch beamed and waved eagerly down at all of them.

Following the stream of girls through the round tunnel on the right, she found herself in one of the three first-year dormitories, a round room with much the same decorations as the main room, but with yellow and black hangings pulled back to reveal six four-poster beds with lovely patchwork quilts laid out. She walked slowly to where she recognized her cherry-wood trunk, and sighed softly in happiness. _This is amazing. _Closing her hangings around her bed, she changed into her nightclothes and sank into the soft bedding, smiling. Just lying there for a moment, she looked at the patchwork more closely; a mosaic of varied colors, her quilt seemed to create an image of a garden with a view of rolling hills and wood beyond. _What…? _She thought of home for a split second, before the hills and garden dispersed into varied colors and became an ocean view. _This is amazing._

* * *

For a moment, she was confused as she woke up, until, moving her hands along her quilt, she remembered the magical colors rearranging themselves, and, looking down, she saw a rather plain patchwork of colors that somehow reminded her of the sunrise over the woods near the Manor.

"I like this one," she whispered to nobody in particular, smoothing the fabric over her legs before getting up and flattening the sheets on the bed again. She realized that she was the first awake in her room, and, yawning, she wondered what time it was. Wandering down the tunnel to the common room, she found a pot of tea ready to be served on the table by the fire. _How lovely. Where do the house elves live here?_

Settling down in the chair in front of the fire, she poured herself a cup. "Thank you," she whispered, breathing in the earthy fumes. _I wonder if Syra is up yet. _Then, she shook herself. Even if she were awake, she would have no idea where to find the Ravenclaw common room. The only thing Syra had told her about it was that there were walls of books that "complemented" the books in the library. She wondered how many books were available to the Ravenclaws that weren't available to the rest of the houses. _Was that even fair? _

Smirking slightly into her cup, she shook her head. Life was never fair. She would make do.

Stretching, she put her empty cup on the table, and got up, moving back to her dormitory. Breakfast sounded nice right now. Dressing in the obligatory black robes, with the new Hufflepuff emblem and scarf, she moved out of the common room and up the stairs into the entry hall, where only a few people were moving into the Great Hall. In front of her was a feature she had failed to see on her way in: four ceiling tall hourglasses, each filled with large gemstones. Walking closer to the one with topaz sparkling, she touched the seal on the bottom. _Why a badger? _That seemed a little strange.

"Helga Hufflepuff favored badgers," a voice spoke to her left. Spinning quickly, her hair flew into her eyes. The man next to her was large. Fat, even. And his robes were rough and cut in a strange style, but that wasn't what made her jaw drop. The man next to her was _floating_ and _see-through._

"You're a ghost!"

"I am, my dear," He smiled down at her, "I would have thought you'd remember me from last night."

"I'm sorry," she said with wide eyes, "I-I was a little lost in thought I guess." Firming her stance, she looked up at the fat ghost. "I'm Olivia."

"You're a first year from my own house," the man bowed, "I am Friar Vectus, but most people call me the Fat Friar. And for good reason!" He looked longingly at the Great Hall. "I do miss the taste of food. But as I was saying, Helga Hufflepuff preferred badgers because of their nature. She observed a lot of animals in the wild, and she always said that badgers were the most underrated animals she could find. They would take any animals into their care, but if they were threatened, they could take on the most venomous snake in the land." He turned to look at her again. "Not to be underestimated, Hufflepuffs."  
Olivia grinned at the Friar, "I think I'm going to like having you as the house ghost. It was lovely to meet you."

"You go on and get some grub now." He motioned to the Hall. "Enjoy it for the both of us, won't you?"

"Whatever you like, Friar." Olivia smiled and moved into the Great Hall.

It was barely a quarter full, and a smattering of professors sat up at the head table; and she didn't see Syra, but there were a few Hufflepuffs at their table, so she walked over to them.

"Hello," she started, fingering her scarf, "may I join you?"

Of the three girls, one was a pretty asian with black hair, and two were brunettes, and the brunette with short curly hair like a cap on her head was the first to smile and invite her to sit next to them.

"I'm Andrea, this is Heather," she gestured to the girl with a long brown braid, "and the one next to you is Leanne. You're Olivia, right?"

Olivia said that she was, and smiled in greeting to the other two girls.

"How do you like Hufflepuff so far?" Leanne asked.

"I've only really met you three and Dirk, but I have only been treated with kindness. Also, the common room is amazing. I've never seen a more wicked place to live."

The girls all laughed, "That's what everyone says," Heather said. She tossed her braid behind her back, and pulled her bowl of porridge closer. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to stuff my face, as I'm rather hungry."

Snorting into her pumpkin juice, Leanne whispered, "she's like a boy in that, don't ever get between her and her food." Heather made a face, then returned to her food.

"Well, I don't know," Olivia started, "I might know someone more obsessed with their food."

Andrea gasped in mock shock, eyes flying wide, and then she and Leanne collapsed in giggles.

"Did you hear," Leanne leaned forward suddenly, "about Harry Potter and Ron Weasley?"

"You mean those rumors that Anthony is spreading are true?" Andrea said in shock.

"What rumors?" Olivia asked, "What are you talking about?"

Heather sighed, "The story that Harry Potter and his sidekick drove a flying car to school, crashed it, and expected a hero's welcome." She rolled her eyes, "It's too outlandish for Anthony to make that up. Besides, if you remember everything that Potter got up to last year, it's not really that surprising."

"Come on," Leanne put in, "Katie says he's not like that at all." She gave Heather a look, "People talk about people, especially when they're famous like Harry Potter. I was just wonder if anyone heard if they got expelled or not."

"I only heard that Snape locked them in the dungeons all night," Andrea put in. "Which might as well be true, Everyone knows that Snape hates Potter. _And_ we didn't see any of them at the Feast last night…"

Professor McGonagall, the woman who had led the sorting, bustled up behind Heather with a sheaf of papers in her hands, which surprised Olivia, as she hadn't realized that they were surrounded with people. More and more people had been trickling into the Great Hall over the course of their breakfast, and it was nearly full now. She could see the Ravenclaw table was mostly full now, but before she could look for Syra, Professor McGonagall placed a paper into her hands.

"Your schedule Miss McDunnough. I suggest you get a move on; your first class is in just over half and hour, and first years always get lost their first few days."

"Yes, Ma'am," Olivia clutched her schedule tightly and stood, "It was nice to meet you," she told the girls, and hurried to her dorm to pick up her bag. _Harry Potter, the attention maniac? Syra has to know something more…_ As she climbed the stairs again, she looked for her first class, realizing that in gathering her books and bags together she had lost nearly 20 minutes. Pulling lightly on a passing student's sleeve, she asked, "Excuse me, do you know where the Potions classroom is?"

A very pretty asian girl wearing Ravenclaw colors looked at her, "Oh, Potions is your first class?" she looked sympathetic, "If you go down that staircase on the left, it'll be down the hallway. Take the first left and the classroom is the third on your right."

Thanking her with a smile, Olivia walked off to the left, as the Ravenclaw had indicated. The steps turned out to lead to the dungeons, which were quite drafty. _Interesting. I wonder where the cracks are, or are they tunnels that lead to the surface? _Looking up at the corners while she was walking, Olivia looked for cracks, until she realized that she had walked past the tunnel to the left. _Stupid. Pay attention, Olivia. _She found her way quickly after that, and soon found her way into the third classroom on the right.

The potions classroom was no less drafty than the corridors, but it was somehow warmer. As though the fumes from all the potions had heated the air before they'd gone out. And she wasn't the first person here; the seats were almost filled, as this was a double potions with Gryffindor. She took a seat next to a blonde hufflepuff just before Professor Snape swept into the classroom. And swept was the correct term; he had robes that caught the air like wings, and he seemed to glide on them.

She took out her quill, inkwell, notepaper, and potions book and started setting up her things in a small area of the table, clear of the cauldron hanging over an unlit fire.

"There will be no wands used in this class. Not until the more advanced potions will you need to used additional magic. In this class, I can teach you to brew to achieve any effect… glory, fame, knowledge, love, even luck. But if you do not pay attention, and do not work, you will not learn anything, nor will I teach you." He black eyes scanned the classroom, and she quickly looked away toward the blackboard behind them. He seemed just as people had described him, and extremely intimidating. She sat up a little straighter and wrapped her hair back in a spare quill.

"Olivia McDunnough?"

She looked up.

"Y-yes?"

His black eyes met her green ones, and he paused. A small moment stretched before he responded.

"Just—seeing who's here and who's not."

He looked away and continued calling names until, suddenly, he turned, flicked his wand at the board, where instructions appeared, and said sharply, "Books to page 4, instructions are on the board. You have an hour."

She hurriedly read the instructions on the board and opened her book. Inside showed an image of a man swelling to unusual size and then shrink back again, over and over. _Swelling Potion. To be used cautiously: can lead to permanent size increase. _The ingredients were fairly common—she saw Miss Haeth working with them in the gardens—but the idea of using them all in one potion to create this effect was rather exciting.

Neatly, she organized all of the ingredients on her table, sectioned out in the order of preparation, and began to cut, squeeze and grind. Working with a practiced hand, she recalled all the hours helping her mother in the often humid kitchens; who knew that all those hours handling knives and a mortar and pestle would help with school? Within minutes, all her ingredients were neatly gathered in prepping bowls and set aside.

Wiping her hands on a clean towel hanging on a rack attached to the side of the tables, she pulled her book towards her and read the next part of instructions. Working silently, she began the fire, and brought it to the correct temperature. Lost in the flow of work, she found her mind wandering back to those kitchens, where the steam would bring scents and teased flavors out of the air. She often wondered whether her nose or her mouth was the reason for it; in any case, her mother told her that the mark of a great cook was that sense of being one with the food. Being its smell. Its taste. Texture. And shaping it to match your own sense of the dish. Olivia never _really_ understood what she meant by that; she thought she was being a little fanciful with her chosen work. But at least she understood what it took to create something by blending others together.

Checking the book again, she pushed a few curls out of her face with her sleeve. _Stir counterclockwise six times and simmer for ten minutes. Lower the heat and stir continuously for five minutes before removing from heat. Bottle when cool. _

Setting the spoon in the holder attached to the cauldron hook, she started cleaning up her mess, looking around at the rest of her classmates. Nobody else was finished. In fact, they mostly seemed frustrated, and the blonde girl next to her looked as though she were about to cry. Checking the time, she saw that she had half an hour left. _Well ahead of time. _Mentally marking the five minutes she had left before returning to her potion, she turned to the blonde.

"Are you alright? Can I help you?"

The girl's face shifted from frustration to confusion. "How are you done already? I don't even understand what half this stuff means," she gripped her hair by the roots briefly.

"Oh," she glanced back at her cauldron; it was lightly steaming. "I'm not finished, just at a waiting period. This isn't unlike cooking, and I used to help my mum with that back home. Would you like some help?"

The girl looked relieved. "I'm trying to reach the consistency of pudding, but it just refused to thicken past milk! I just don't know what I did wrong."

"Well what was the last thing you did?"

"I put in the dried nettles and stirred clockwise twice."

"Oh! You're supposed to sprinkle the nettles in _while_ you're stirring clockwise twice." The girl groaned and leaned her head on her palm for a moment.

Checking her potion again—_Two minutes_—Olivia quickly pulled her book towards her again. "There must be something in here about counteracting mistakes…" Scanning the chapter list, she found a chapter that listed the effects of common combinations and actions.

"Look, it says here that stirring after you add ingredients causes the ingredient to 'melt' into the potion somehow." She pushed the book towards the blonde girl. "I have to get back to my potion, but why don't you look through the list for something that might do the opposite?"

The girl thanked her profusely and started to read fervently, and Olivia settled in front of her potion wiping her hands on her robes, and looking around while waiting for the last twenty seconds or so to run out. Professor Snape was walking around the room. _Checking on progress_, she supposed. _Maybe we should ask him if whatever solution we find would work before we try it…_ Leaning over quickly, she told the girl so before pulling her spoon out of its holder and lowering her fire down to almost an ember. Stirring steadily, she let her mind drift. _Where is Syra right now? _She imagined her friend sitting almost carelessly tapping her wand against her leg. _I hope she's enjoying herself, and not getting into trouble on the first day. _Checking the time again, she put out the fire and swung the cauldron hook away from it.

"What is this?" she heard vaguely from behind her. "You've made pig slop, not a potion." Tensing, she glanced over her shoulder quickly while stirring; the professor was nearly snarling over a raven haired Gryffindor.

"I-I-I-'m sorry, sir. I don't know what I did wrong…" She looked about to cry, and the girl sitting next to Olivia took in a sharp breath.

Setting her bottles next to her cauldron, Olivia turned to her and whispered, "It'll be alright; what did you find?"

The girl glanced at her with wide eyes. "I'm not sure I found anything." She pointed to a listing on the second page, "This one says that if you add two ingredients with opposite properties, they often cancel each other out, but I don't know if that would help here."

Olivia tapped her chin. "Well, maybe if we find an ingredient with opposite properties from dried nettles, we can add it and stir clockwise twice and the effect would be neutralized?"

The girl looked doubtful. "Well let's just look for one and we can ask the Professor," Olivia went on. "Surely he won't be angry if we tried to fix the problem." She patted the girl's arm.  
"Let's see… the properties of dried nettles…" Olivia looked them up in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. "It says here that Dried Nettles are often used to relieve inflammation…and encourage scab formation when used topically? Why is this in a swelling potion?" Her brow furrowed.

"Dried Nettles," a stern voice spoke from over their heads, "are used to moderate the swelling effect of the potion." The two girls slowly looked up from the book… tense fisted and straight-backed. "Without them, the subject would swell uncontrollably, and likely burst from the tension."

The blonde girl shook slightly, and Olivia's brow relaxed in understanding. "So if we were to try and neutralize the effect of the nettles, the potion would thicken?"

Professor Snape looked at Olivia for a moment, his face unreadable before she noticed a slight tightening around his eyes, and he looked away. "Yes, it would thicken, but you would need the effect of the nettles in the final product. What did you do here, girl?"

The blonde hunched slightly, "I-I accidentally stirred after adding the nettles." She looked at Olivia quickly. "Olivia was trying to help me find a way to fix it."

"We found that if you add an herb with an opposite effect that you can neutralize the original addition," Olivia rushed over the girl's last breath, in an effort to forestall the Professor's anger, "Maybe we could then re-add the nettles properly?"

The Professor stood, staring into the girl's potion for what seemed a long while. Unexpectedly, he took in a breath and spoke, almost gently compared to the snarl of several minutes earlier. "You could. It would take too long, and the potion wouldn't be as effective. But you could." He glanced at Olivia quickly, and back to the blonde.

_Stupid, _Olivia thought, spots of color appearing on her cheeks. _You should have thought of that._

"It would be better if you just stirred the potion counterclockwise four times, double the amount of the error, and moved on to the next step, adding half again as much of the pufferfish eyes, which is the swelling agent. You would counteract the issue with a proportion change rather than additional ingredients." He curled his lip and spoke again, in a decidedly harsher tone. "And I expect a perfect solution with the help you've been given, Miss Hill." And he swept away faster than he had come.

Shaking, the girl, looked at Olivia. _Thank you_, she mouthed. Olivia let out a breath that she hadn't realized that she'd been holding, and smiled. "You've still got twenty minutes. That's plenty of time." She pulled her book back to her side of the table and started bottling her potion. She saw the girl hurriedly stirring her potion and adding the pufferfish eyes from the corner of her eyes. Smiling to herself, she started putting away her ingredients before wiping the table down with the towel from the rack. _Cleanliness is next to Godliness._

She brought one of her bottles up to Professor Snape at his desk, and paused to ask him if there was going to be any further lesson. At his leave, she gathered her bag and looked at her schedule.

_Herbology. That sounds calming, _she thought with a smile as she walked from the classroom.

If she'd been paying attention, she would have noticed two black eyes following her progress.

* * *

The rest of Olivia's day went by quicker than a day riding Wind Dancer across the vast hills of McTavish Manor. And she did love to ride; there was nothing as freeing as the feeling of flying she got from the back of a horse. But as much as Herbology was dirty, she felt that she learned more in that one class than she had in her whole life of following Miss Haeth in the gardens. As a first year, she only had two classes in the morning each day, Astronomy on Wednesday at midnight, and Flying with the Ravenclaws on Wednesday at 1:00pm, so she had the rest of the day to work on her homework and find Syra.

So, wandering the castle hallways looking for the library, Olivia found herself examining all the paintings lining the walls, and even asking them some questions. She quickly found out that they had a limited knowledge and personality base, almost as if they could only act so far as the artist had imagined them as he painted. _Or, _she thought, _as he cast the spell to bring their qualities to life, if magical theory is to be applied. _Magic was just fascinating, but, honestly, so was the way that Muggles came up with devices to aid them in lieu of it. Her mother had told her stories of the muggle world at night, often. She said that she wanted Olivia to know where she had come from, at least partly come from. It was strange to think that her mother didn't belong to this world. She'd lived in it as long as Olivia had. Didn't that mean she belonged just as much?

Quite a few hallways and stairways into her wandering, she found large double doors opened to reveal an astonishing amount of books lining bookcases, walls, and tables. _ has to be four times the size of the library at the Manor. _As she walked through the doors, a spindly woman followed her suspiciously with her eyes, and Olivia quickened her pace to avoid them. Setting her bag down on a table in the corner of the large room, next to a window, she settled into the essay set from the instructions on the board in Potions.

It wasn't until a girl with long, black, wavy hair heaved a bag onto the table across from where she sat that Olivia realized that it was late afternoon, and her Herbology homework was almost done.

"I thought you'd be here, Livy," Syra said, "We have to find an empty classroom before dinner. Mum said she'd teach us a little about animagi today. Plus, I'm sure they want to hear all about our first day. Come on, we've got two hours until supper."

"Just a little bit left, Syra," Olivia bit her lip as she wrote as fast as she could. "I didn't see you at breakfast or lunch."

"Ah, I like to swipe lunch from the kitchens and dance out on the grounds. There's a nice sunny spot that's fairly isolated in between the lake and the forest on the south side."  
Olivia snorted softly. "It figures that you'd seek out a spot like that here." She looked up momentarily. "Do you have any _friends_ here?"

She didn't mean other witches or wizards, but Syra knew what she meant.

"A few," she smiled mischeviously. "You'd like one of them in particular. Very unique. But she only comes out when all the other students are inside for sure, like during a storm or something."

"Done." Olivia put away her quill and books, and rose. "Where is this classroom?"

"On the third floor. We'll make it with about an hour and a half to spare."

On their way to the classroom, Olivia asked Syra if she was disappointed that Olivia hadn't made it into Ravenclaw, but Syra just laughed.

"Olivia, you wouldn't like it in Ravenclaw," Syra pulled gently on Olivia's curls in an old gesture of affection. "They are all too competitive about how much they know, and you're too blunt about what _you _know. They'd find you a complete threat. It takes a bit of craftiness to make them think that you aren't smarter than they are." She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. "Quite annoying actually. I hate dealing with people's _issues_. I mean, everyone's got different ones." She looked at Olivia, exasperatedly. "How are you supposed to keep them all straight, anyhow?"

"At least you can watch them and suss out what they're feeling. You're a better judge of people when you can't talk to them than anyone." Olivia was referring to Syra's way of reading body language because of her Talent.

"I suppose, but it's still frustratingly absurd. You wouldn't want to deal with it."

Olivia rolled her eyes, "Well, in any case, I'm not in Ravenclaw, so we can stop wondering what would happen if I were."

Syra gave her a sidelong glance. "The classroom is just up here."

They settled in the center of the classroom, and Syra summoned some cushions from the cupboard; the classroom was occasionally used for practical exams, and was well-stocked with supplies—the reason Syra chose it out.

"Mum?" Syra called out holding the mirror so both of them could see. "Mum, are you there?"

The mirror flickered, and there the Manor dining room sofas and paintings shook and the image focused on two women: a beautiful, fine-boned woman with long, wavy blonde hair, and a porcelain-skinned woman with brilliantly red hair twisted back carefully into a bun.

"Mum!" the two girls called out in perfect synchrony.

"Olivia!-"

"Syra!-"

"Mum, I got into Hufflepuff!"

"You didn't get in trouble on your first day, did you?"

"Brilliant, love! How do you like it?"

"Ack, mum, trust me for once!" Syra rolled her eyes, "I have to earn the teacher's trust back before I can break it! Do you think I have no standards?"

"It's amazing! The common room is underground, and everything is covered in plants or copper and it's just so cozy!"

"Don't even think about it, Syra-"

"That's lovey! How was your first day, sweetheart?"

"Brilliant! Potions is just like cooking with you, mum, you'd love the subject!"

"I'm glad you love it, baby."

"Don't worry, mum, I'm just takin' the mickey out of ya," Syra said hurriedly.

It all came out into chaos, and for a moment, there was silence as they realized just how loud they had been going on, and the two girls looked around warily.

"So, what's on the lesson agenda for today?"

Haeth looked sternly through the mirror for a few moments, before sighing. "Background. In order for you to understand how to become an animagus, you have to understand what it is to be an animal."

"Now that might be easy for you, Syra," she continued when Syra opened her mouth excitedly, "but Livy might have a problem really understanding. So you should spend the next few weeks helping her to understand the mind of an animal to the best of your ability."

Syra patted Olivia on the arm, signaling that she would do so; Olivia smiled gratefully, but the opened her mouth, "That might take a while, Miss Haeth. Syra has been talking about how she understands animals for years, and I still don't understand."

"Well, she'll have to try talking about what it's like to think like an animal, not just what it's like to talk to one."

Syra nodded.

"Second, is information about the actual process. There are few books about the method of becoming an animagus, and I doubt that the school library has them available, so I'll have to take you through the step by step. The first step will take several months: you have to discover your animal. The process is difficult because not many people understand themselves the way an animal would, so they don't think beyond which animal they'd _like _to be toward which animal they _would _be."  
The girls looked at each other and grimaced.

"Some people meditate on the matter, and try to understand themselves in that way, and other people try to research various animals and compare their behaviors with their own."

"Isn't there a spell or potion that we could make that could help us along with that?" Olivia asked.

"Unfortunately, there's no real spell for this part. It's why there are so few animagi; few people manage the first step at all." Haeth looked at the two girls seriously. "It's very important that you come to the correct conclusion. Often, you can confirm it by finding your way to the animal you believe you reflect, and if they accept you into their group, you're correct. However, if you come to the wrong conclusion, and you attempt to transform into the wrong animal, you will never achieve the transformation, and that's the best case scenario. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mum," Syra said. Olivia nodded her agreement.

"Now you're going to have to work mostly on your own over there, but I'll be here if you have any questions or come up on any blocks. When you've come to your animals, we can move on to the next step," Haeth said. "Alright, It's running close to supper time, and we don't want you to miss it."

"Yes, you need to keep up your strength to do well," Charlotte put in.

"We'll meet here at the same time in two weeks to measure your progress, alright girls?"

The girls gave their agreements and said their goodbyes. As they walked toward the Great Hall, Olivia remembered the conversation from breakfast, and mentioned it to Syra.

"I heard that over breakfast, too," Syra rolled her eyes, "It's true, so far as I can tell, but I'm not sure what the fuss is. If anyone managed to pay attention, they'd realize that Harry doesn't look for the stuff that happens around him. In fact, he's very rarely the cause of any trouble he gets into. There's probably a good explanation for what happened, and, in any case," Syra leaned toward Olivia's ear, "it was bloody brilliant. The school will be talking about that one for years."  
Olivia snorted. "You would think about that. But what if they got expelled?"

Syra waved the suggestion away dismissively, "If they got expelled, it would be all over the school, and from a more reliable source, but I saw them at breakfast this morning, and they didn't look expelled to me."

"Breakfast? I didn't even see _you_ at breakfast, how did you manage to spot them?"

Syra smirked. "I got really good at tracking him down last year," she turned their path down a corridor that looked familiar to Olivia, "I had to, if I was going to avoid him, or learn anything about him."

Olivia looked at Syra for a moment, before letting the subject slide. "So what animal do you think you'd be?" They'd reached the Great Hall, so instead of answering right away, Syra grabbed Olivia's hand and guided her to the end of the Ravenclaw table, where the ate and softly discussed what their possible animals could be.

However, it wasn't until much later, when she was tucked underneath a quilt now made up like a full moon over a cottage and a river that Olivia let herself think that she just might not be fit for being an animagus. She'd managed to keep that bit a secret from the rest during the mirror-call, but she knew that she'd been trying to understand Syra's way of thinking—which really was closer to an animal's way of thinking than she let on—for years.

_No, I just don't think I'm cut out for it. I can't be that…wild. Can't be that strong._

She slept a fitful sleep that night, and woke early to the sound of her racing heart.

* * *

Coming next time: More Syra, and her thoughts on staying away from Harry!

_Thanks for staying with me! Please review with your thoughts!_

_WingedBlack_


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